


Debbie Doll | Ringo Starr

by TunaDiamond



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Sex, Smut, noncon, stepsister, underrage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 39
Words: 49,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunaDiamond/pseuds/TunaDiamond
Summary: She was his own personal dolly - everything that he considered gorgeous and breathtaking, she was. She was his Debbie Doll, and had they not been step-siblings, he would have asked her out immediately...But how long can the knowledge that their desire for each other is wrong keep them apart?
Relationships: Cynthia Lennon/John Lennon, Jane Asher/Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Original Character(s), Paul McCartney/Dot Rhone, Ringo Starr/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Wattpad, where my username is @tunadiamond  
> Follow me on Instagram, where my username is @tuna.diamond

I knew that daddy had met somebody, and I knew that he liked her a lot. I knew that he was happy with her, and I also knew that he wanted to marry her... but I did not know that we were moving to the Dingle, the poorest area in the whole of Liverpool, to live with her and her son, who was twenty-three and seven years older than me.

Daddy walked ahead of me up to the front door, a box of my belongings in his arms. He knocked on the front door of Elsie Starkey's house, and then took a step back. I tried to watch him but found that I couldn't see above my own box. I was short, and could very rarely see over anything. I sighed and took a step back too, hoping that I didn't trip over something.

I heard the door opening, and a kind-sounding voice greeting my father eagerly, calling him by his name. I heard the sound of kissing, and I fought the urge to smile.

I was glad that my dad was happy.

"Ritchie!" The kind female voice barked. "Come and help with the boxes!"

"But it's _cold_ , Elsie." I sighed. He sounded so reluctant - almost as reluctant as I had been when daddy had told me that I would be getting a stepbrother. I wondered if he wanted a stepsister, and what he thought of me.

"Oh, no, it's fine, I -" I cut myself off when somebody took the box from me. A boy. Well, a man. I instantly closed my mouth.

"Ritchie!" The woman exclaimed, "hurry up! It's cold out here." She looked at me, and for the first time, I looked at her. She was portly, shorter than daddy and an inch or so shorter than Ritchie, who I assumed was her son. But even then, she was still a good inch taller than me. "You must be Debbie," she smiled at me. I smiled back. "Come inside, Debbie darling, it's cold." She waved me past Ritchie, and I did as she instructed, breathing out a sigh of relief as she rested a hand on the middle of my back as she led me inside and straight through to the kitchen.

The room was small, and looked as though it needed to be decorated quite badly - mine and daddy's home had been decorated just before mummy had died, when she had inherited some money from a distant relative.

I wished that we were back there, now.

The woman, Elsie, sat me down on a chair at the dining table, which only had three seats. I wondered where we would get another from now that there were four of us living in the small terraced house, but I didn't dare ask.

"Now," she said with a smile as I looked up at her, "cup of tea?"

I nodded, smiling at her as I hummed in reply. "Yes please, Mrs Starkey." Her and dad were only engaged.

"Bags are in the tin, cups are in the cupboard. Kettle's always on the stove - my Ritchie loves a cup of tea, so if you're making one and he's home, just assume that he wants one, too."  
She left the kitchen. I took several seconds to process all of what she had said and quickly realised that she wanted me to make my own tea.

 _Well you do live here now,_ I said to myself, _she's hardly going to be your skivvy, is she?_

I filled the kettle from the tap, which was covered in hard limescale. I grimaced and tried to ignore it, instead concentrating on how full the kettle was getting. When it was done, I put it on the hob and looked around for a box of matches to light the fire with.

"Um, Mrs Starkey?" I called reasonably quietly, not knowing where she was in the house. "Mrs Starkey?" I had no answer. I continued to look, opening all of the drawers in the kitchen and growing more flustered with each passing second. I felt uncomfortable in this house; like it wasn't my own and I was only a visitor - I was, in a way. I didn't plan to stay for more than a year or so - as soon as I was old enough to move out, get a job and support myself, then I would. I didn't want to be living with daddy and his new soon-to-be wife forever. I wanted to let him have his life in peace, without the worry of me.

"Oh, sorry Debbie darling," Mrs Starkey said as she breezed into the kitchen, Ritchie following behind her. He was dragging his bare feet. I tried not to watch him as he came into the kitchen and threw himself into the seat that I had been sitting in. "Did you call me?"

"Yes, I, um," Ritchie was picking some paint off the back of the chair. I bit my lip as I tried to ignore him further, "I couldn't find any matches?"

Mrs Starkey scowled, looking at Ritchie. "You've got them, I suppose?"

He didn't even look up from the chair he was destroying. He just shrugged.

" _Richard_ ," she warned, putting her hands on her hips, "don't make me -"

"Gave 'em to John." Ritchie paused, now looking up - and directly at me. "Guess you'll have to go without your tea."

"She was making you one, too." Mrs Starkey scowled at him, "why would you give them to _John_?"

I wondered who John was, and what kind of reputation he had. I wondered why Mrs Starkey seemed to dislike him, based on the way she said his name.

Ritchie shrugged again. "He couldn't find his lighter."

"Mrs Starkey, I could just run to the shop and buy some more," I offered, "it'd be no problem."

She turned to me and smiled, "that's a very lovely offer, Debbie darling, but it'll be _Ritchie_ who goes to buy some more." She looked at her only son, "and he'll be using his own money to do so."  
Ritchie stood upright, looking like he was ready to roar. He didn't seem to be in a good mood - I didn't even know him and I could tell that.

I wondered if the new presence of daddy and me had caused his mood.

"Mrs Starkey, I really don't mind - I wanted to a pack of smokes, anyway."  
"Oh, you don't have that horrible habit too, do you, Debbie darling?" Mrs Starkey sighed, looking at me disappointedly. I _almost_ felt bad for smoking - but it was something that mum had done, and I had picked it up off of her - though she had never known that. "Well, Ritchie will show you the way in case you get lost - you don't know this part of the city, do you?"

I shook my head and smiled, "that won't be necessary, Mrs Starkey -"  
"He'd be delighted." She shot a pointed glare at her son, who frowned but didn't say anything in reply to his mother's words. She turned back to me, "and it's Elsie, darling." She turned to Ritchie, "did you take her box upstairs?" Ritchie nodded. "Run up and fetch her coat, would you?"  
"She can go herself." Ritchie hissed, looking at me through his eyelashes, a scowl on his face.

"I didn't _ask_ if she could go herself, I asked you to _go_ _for her_."

Mrs Starkey - Elsie - crossed her arms against her chest and stared down her son for almost an entire minute, the three of us standing in silent as a battle waged silently between the two of them.

Eventually, Ritchie caved. He sighed and strode out of the room, making a point of stopping in front of me and glaring at me, his nose twitching in disdain, for several seconds before he left.


	2. Chapter 2

"Aren't you going to wear a coat?" I asked him as I turned my head to see that he was lighting a cigarette.

He shook his head, "don't want to." He paused, turning to me. "Want a light?"  
"I haven't got any cigarettes." I frowned, "daddy doesn't like me smoking them, so I don't get the chance to buy them much."  
"Don't you go to school?" Ritchie asked, "you could buy them on your way."

I shook my head, "I know what I want to be, and you can't learn that at school."  
"What do you want to be?" He asked, keeping focused on the path ahead of us and not looking at me like I was at him.

"Hairdresser." I paused, "you?"

"I drum in a band." He paused, "I want to make it big, but if that doesn't work then I'd probably be a hairdresser too -" He cut himself off and stopped walking, staring ahead of us at the back of a man - they looked about the same age - who was obviously flirting with some blonde girl.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Shush," Ritchie hissed at me, "if he turns around, don't make eye contact. If he talks to us, then don't -"  
"Ringo!"

At the sound of the man's voice, I instinctively looked up. I cursed myself for doing so, because as soon as the man and I made eye contact, he smirked. I sighed. He strode over to us and Ritchie turned to look at me just moments before he reached us.

" _What_ did I tell you?" When the man reached us, Ritchie exclaimed, "John! Didn't know you'd be round here!"  
"Aye," John, the man, said with a smirk, his eyes trained on me. I tried to resist the overwhelming urge to stare at him, but wasn't able to. The man was _gorgeous_. "Well, I had to come see her, didn't I?"  
He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb at the girl who was walking away, her back facing us.

"Bet you did," Ritchie paused, "what's her name, then?"

"Her name?"  
Ritchie crossed his arms against his chest and continued to eye John disapprovingly.

After a few seconds of thinking, John said, "don't matter what her name is, Ringo," he paused, this time looking directly at me and his smirk growing larger, "what's this girly's name, then, eh? Didn't know you had a bird."

"She's not my bird, she's my new stepsister." Ritchie furrowed his eyebrows, "John, stop looking at her like _that_."

John chuckled, "like what, lad?"

He was still eyeing me up and down like his next meal.

Ritchie just sighed, "just put her down, John." John didn't take his eyes off of me for another four seconds, and then he turned to Ritchie.

"What's her name, anyway?"

"This is Deborah."

I found my voice, "Debbie." I corrected, "Deborah makes me feel like my mother." I had been named after her.

"Oh yeah?" John crossed his arms against his chest and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at me like I was an object rather than a person. A chill ran through me. "Is she as gorgeous as you?"  
I looked briefly at Ritchie, who was smirking. Somehow, he must have known what I was going to say next.

"She's dead." I deadpanned, feeling only a small ache in my heart.

The smirk fell from John's face and he paled.

"I'm sorry, Deb, I, um, lost my own mum a few years back."

The three of us stood in silence for several seconds, Ritchie was very obviously feeling quite awkward. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"Right, well," he cleared his throat again, catching both mine and John's attentions, "come on then, Debbie, we'd best be getting on - Elsie and your dad'll be expecting us back soon -"

"You coming to the Cavern tonight, luv?" John asked, catching both Ritchie and I off guard.

"The Cavern?" I echoed, "as in, um, the club?" John nodded. "I've never been -"

"Our band's playing tonight." John said by way of an explanation, "you should come. It'll be me with the microphone, and Ringo behind the drum kit. You can meet the other two, as well; Paul and George."

"Oh, well -"

"You don't need to come, Debbie," Ritchie said in an odd tone of voice. John and I both glared at him.

I smirked, turning back to John, "I'l be there - Ritchie'll walk me, right, Ritch?" I batted my eyelashes at my stepbrother and he groaned.

"Elsie'd never let me out again if I didn't, I s'pose." He paused, this time looking directly at John, "thanks so much for putting the idea in her impressionable little head, John." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"See you tonight then, luv." John walked past us, the two of us looking over our shoulders just once. He waved at me coyly, and I smiled.

Ritchie groaned and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me along the pavement. "Come on!" He exclaimed.

We walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence, and didn't talk while we were in there. It wasn't until we were nearly back at Elsie and Ritchie's house - _our_ house - that I spoke. "You're in a band?"

He scoffed, "don't sound so surprised." He paused, "we're getting big, y'know. Moving to London soon, apparently. Then you can have my room full time." He sounded so bitter talking about his room.

I opened my mouth, about to ask him what he meant, but was cut off by Elsie, who was standing on the doorstep of the house. "Where've you two been?" She called out to us, "your father's been worried sick about you, Debbie darling, you didn't tell him where you were going!"  
Ritchie reached her first. He asked, "didn't you tell him, Elsie?"

I wondered why he called his mother by her name to her face. I would never be so disrespectful to daddy, but I didn't dare mention it to Ritchie.

"I did, but he said that Debbie should have told him first," she paused, "don't worry, Debbie darling, I've settled him down for you."

"Oh," I furrowed my eyebrows, "thank you so much, Elsie." Daddy was never angry with me, and he never scared me, so I didn't really appreciate what she had done that much since she was probably exaggerating the whole thing.

"Get inside, you two, it's cold - Ritchie, why didn't you take a coat?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Right," Elsie said to Ritchie and I as she looked between us, the two of us sitting on either side of the front room, "bed for you two."

"I'm twenty-three." Ritchie pointed out. She put her hands on her hips and he was silent, "okay, Elsie... and Deb and me are heading out to the Cavern, so -"  
I giggled. Elsie turned to me, "you've got Ritchie's bedroom, Debbie darling, as there's only two."

"The Cavern?" Daddy echoed. Ritchie and I nodded, "is it safe to go there at your age?"  
"I'm sixteen, daddy." I reminded him, rolling my eyes teasingly, "I'm sure it'll be fine -"  
"And Ritchie'll be with her," Elsie agreed, "he'll keep her safe, Harry."

"I will." Ritchie promised.

"But when we get back, I don't want to take Ritchie's room," I furrowed my eyebrows, "where's he going to sleep?" I turned to daddy, "I don't want to take his room from him, daddy."

Daddy nodded in understanding, "Ritchie will be sleeping on the settee for the time being."

"Ritchie and the rest of the band are moving to London soon, and then you can have his room without the guilt, darling."

I remembered Ritchie suggesting that I should move to London with him and John and the rest of the band, and I was quiet. Somehow, it felt like a private offer.

"I feel terrible about taking his room until then," I looked at Elsie, "couldn't we share?"  
"The room is quite small, darling." Elsie furrowed her eyebrows, "I don't think we could fit two beds in there."  
"He'll hurt his back if he sleeps on the settee for more than a night or so." I said, my voice sounding quite desperate. I didn't know what was wrong with me; why did I care if Ritchie's back hurt or not? Why did I want to share a room with him?

"I don't think it's a good idea." Daddy said, looking between Ritchie and I. Ritchie was drumming a beat on the side of the settee, counting silently though his mouth shaped the words of the numbers.

"Daddy, I don't want him to hurt himself on my account," I paused, "we'll be sensible - we're brother and sister now, so nothing would happen." I bit my lip.

"He's a lot older than you," he glared at Ritchie, who didn't even glance up.

It was probably a smart move on his part.

I said, "then he's responsible."  
Elsie raised an eyebrow as if she silently questioned what I had just said. I shot her a look that said 'don't say anything'. She remained silent.

Daddy sighed, "well how long would it be for?" This question he directed at Elsie. "When is he planning to move to London?"

She shrugged and repeated the question to her son, "Ritch, when are you and the band looking at moving?"

"Few months, Elsie, maybe three?"

Daddy asked, "you got a girlfriend, Ritchie?"

He shrugged now, "no one serious."

"Why?"

 _Why so personal, daddy?_ I didn't dare ask my question out loud.

Ritchie's eyes slid over to me. He looked me up and down very quickly several times and then turned to my dad. "No one special enough has come along yet, Harry."

 _What was that all about?_ I asked myself, remembering how his eyes had roved over me. I felt an unfamiliar heat in the pit of my stomach and I swallowed.

"Daddy, please don't make him sleep on the settee." I widened my eyes and saw daddy's face soften. I smiled. I had won.

"Alright, Debbie." Daddy turned to Ritchie, "keep your distance yeah, Ritchie?"

Ritchie nodded. Elsie chuckled, "they're brother and sister, Harry, they know what to do and what _not_ to do."  
I stood up and waited for Ritchie lead the way upstairs as I hadn't been up there yet. He did.

When we got into the room that we'd be sharing, I saw that there was one bed. A single. I looked to him and he shrugged, "bet you wish you'd left me to the settee now, don't you?"  
I bit my lip, "of course not..." I went over to the three boxes which I had brought from the other house. I began to root through the first one, which was labelled as 'clothes'. I was looking for my pyjamas so I could lay them out for later.

"Don't think this means I like you, by the way," Ritchie said as he undid his shirt and threw it on the floor. I turned to look at him as he spoke, because I had always been taught by my mother that that was the polite thing to do... but I was not looking at his face. Ritchie had a gorgeous body, and it was covered in scars. When he caught me looking he turned around quickly. I didn't know if he was embarassed about me looking at his naked torso, or if it was his scars that he was ashamed of. "Just because we're going to share the same bed, doesn't mean we're anything more than two strangers who have to share a house. You're not my sister and you never will be. I never wanted a sister, and I definitely don't. Want. You."

He put a new shirt on and gestured for me to get changed as well.

I felt my heart ache, but I wasn't sure why. Why did his words hurt so much?

My eyes began to tear up, but I forced myself to hold them in.

Whilst he was turned around, I put my nightgown on the bed for later and put on a deep blue dress with a white colour and hem, the nicest dress that I owned. I threw my dirty clothes on top of his dirty shirt.

"Well I don't want a mean, moody big brother, but I guess we're both disappointed, Ritch." I crossed my arms against my chest. He turned. Once again, his eyes roved over me, though this time they rested firmly on my chest. I wondered why he had stopped there.

 _He has nice eyes_ , I thought to myself, _a gorgeous bright blue. I've never seen such a vivid colour._

Ritchie got into the bed and then sighed, holding up the cover for me. I climbed in beside him and let him put the cover over me, his arm resting against my side as he tried to cover us both as best he could with the small blanket.

My heart thumped in my rib cage. I changed the subject, "are you any good at drumming?"

He scoffed, "the best in Liverpool."

Ritchie rested his arm over his own body and groaned, moving around for another minute or so before he complained, "this bed is too small for two of us."

I laid in silence for several seconds before I said in a meek tone of voice, "I don't mind if you want to put your arm around me... if you sleep on your side, I mean."  
"I-I do usually, yeah..." he stammered, turning back onto his side and draping one arm across my body, "i-is this okay? You can l-let me know if this i-isn't okay -"  
"It's fine." I rested one arm under my head. "We just have to get by, I suppose."  
"Until I go to London." He finished my sentence.

I hummed in reply, "until you go to London..." I could feel him breathing onto the back of my neck. I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to shiver in response. After about ten minutes of silence, I turned over to face him, our faces less than two inches apart, "do you think you'll be the best drummer in London?"  
He nodded, "best be."

"I've never heard of you, y'know." I paused, "what was it that John called you?... Ringy? No, that's not it -"  
"Ringo." He paused, "that's my stage name."

My eyes widened and he chuckled, noticing the change in my face shape despite the darkness which enveloped us. " _Ringo Starr_?" I exclaimed in a whisper, both surprised and excited. I forgot for several seconds how much he confused me and how much he seemed to dislike me. It seemed easy to forget when we were alone, because he was quite nice when it was just the two of us. "My friends back home _love_ you! They love the Hurricanes -"  
"Yeah well I don't play for Rory anymore," Ritchie answered darkly, "I play with John and the lads, now."

"Why?"

He shrugged as best he could in a single bed with another person beside him, "a combination of things, really, but mostly because Rory had a job and he couldn't do that _and_ be in a band... and then I got a better offer - to join _The Beatles_ , and I had to decide what would be best for me."

"So you chose the band?"

"I chose what made me happy." He paused, "why are we in bed?"  
"Because you got in and it looked like you wanted me to join you," I paused, "it's your fault, not mine."

He sighed and got out of the bed, "we're going to be late."

"Oh come on," I said, "I bet you're late for shows all the time -"  
"Never me, usually John." Ritchie hurried over to the door of the bedroom, "come on, Deb!" I heard him hurtling down the stairs and I got out of the bed to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is the Cavern far?" I asked as I pulled my coat on and watched Ritchie do the same. He made sure that he had some money in his pocket and his drumsticks tucked into the back of his trousers before he turned to look at me.

"We're walking."

"But it's on Mathew Street, right?" I asked him. Ritchie nodded. "That's the centre of the city -"

"So if you know where it is," he said in an exasperated tone, "then why did you ask me how far it was?"

I shrugged, "I thought you might have a shortcut or something -"

"It's about a forty minute walk." I groaned, and he shot me a glare, "you could stay here if that's a problem?"

"No!" I pipped, "not a problem, just -"

"We're getting a bus, anyway." Ritchie put a cigarette between his lips and then lit it using the same lighter that he had on the way to the shop earlier that day, "you got any money?"

I shook my head, "spent it all on cigs earlier."

Ritchie sighed and handed me a couple of pounds. My eyes widened. He'd handed me what most people would consider a normal week's pay. "Ritch, this is -"

He shrugged, "had a good run of shows, Deb." He poked his head around the side of the living room to Elsie and daddy, "we're going now - be home later, yeah?"

They must have both agreed, because the next thing I knew, he was grabbing my wrist and pulling me quickly out of the door.

We walked very quickly - or he did, anyway. I could barely keep up. Every few minutes, he'd stop and turn back to me, frowning when he saw how far behind him I was.

"Come on, we're going to miss the bus!"

I tried to hurry, but before I could catch up with him he was miles ahead again.

"Ritchie!" I cried out to him, "come back! I can't keep up!" He stopped and waited for me to reach him before he spoke.

"I swear to God, Deb, if we're late then I'm making you pay for the cab." He snapped.

I frowned, "it's your money anyway!"

"I gave it to _you_!" Ritchie snapped back, his sour mood very quickly reflecting onto me.

"Oh shut up, Ritchie!" I yelled, causing him to stare at me in surprise. "You're nothing but a bully -"

"I gave you money -"

"Like I'm some kind of prostitute!?" I took the money out of my pocket, and then took his hand. I unballed his fist and slammed the money into his palm. "I don't want your shitty money, I want someone who's nice to me!"

I stormed off, heading back in the direction that we had come.

"Deb!" I didn't turn around, I just crossed my arms against my chest and kept walking, biting my lip to keep from crying out from the cold that was invading me through my coat. "Debbie!" I could hear him running. He was getting closer. I didn't stop walking, regardless of how much I wanted to. Why did he have some sort of power over me? I didn't even think that he knew he had power over me. "Debbie!" Ritchie grabbed my arm and spun me around to look at him. We were almost the same height, though he was taller by an inch or so. "Why didn't you answer me?"

"You pissed me off!" I replied, surprising myself with my own language. It wasn't often I swore because daddy didn't like it, but Ritchie ticked me off so much that I just couldn't help myself.

"I didn't even -" Ritchie cut himself off, taking a few deep breaths before he tipped his head and sighed, "okay, look, maybe I've been unreasonable to you today."

" _Maybe_ ?" I echoed, laughing because his words were so ridiculous, "you've been an utter _dick_ , Ritchie, and you know it! Don't you know how difficult it is, anyway? Moving out of your home, meeting your dad's girlfriend's son and having to share a room and bed with him -"

"You _offered_ to share," he pointed out, "don't act like you were held at gun point for it."

"I'm not," I paused, "Ritchie, I offered to share with you because I want the two of us to be friends. You've been blowing hot and cold all day - when I first got here you were rude, and then as soon as we went to the shop you weren't that bad. We got home and you were obstinate, and then when we in bed, you were fine."

He winced at my words. I wondered why.

"Don't phrase it like that, Deb."

"Like what?"

" _In bed_ ," he repeated, " _we were in bed_... don't say it like that, it makes it sound like..."

"Like what, Ritchie?" I asked, already knowing what he was going to say, "like we were fucking?"

His eyes widened.

"I don't think your dad would like you talking like that -"

"I don't give a shit." My blood was boiling. I balled my fists up and continued, "you already gave me money like I was some sort of common whore -"

"You're not!" He looked around to see if anybody was listening to us. They weren't. He put his hands in mine and pulled me a little closer to him. He smelt sweet, but I didn't dare voice that aloud. "You're not a common whore... not any type of whore, in fact. You're... you're..."

"Spit it out, Ritch," I paused, readying my next attack. "We're going to miss the bus."

He sighed, "you're like a doll, Deb."

"A doll?" I echoed curiously, "what do you mean?"

"Well..." he bit his plump lip and I couldn't help but watch, mesmerised. "Deb, you're uh, you're really pretty," I blushed, "and you're blonde, which is always a plus 'cos you look like Brigitte Bardot." I _loved_ Brigitte Bardot, "and you've got a nice body - curvy with big -"

I narrowed my eyes at him, putting my hands on my hips.

Ritchie chuckled uncomfortably, "your lips are really gorgeous, and you look like a dolly because the clothes you wear are just so perfect."

"Perfect?

He nodded, "y-yeah... they're perfect. Deb, you're perfect... you're a Debbie Doll."

I smiled. Nobody had ever called me perfect before. "Debbie Doll?"

"Y-yeah..." he stuttered again, "m-my Debbie Doll..."

My smile widened and I hugged him, "you're Debbie Doll."

Ritchie hugged me back. It made my heart skip a beat.

* * * * *

"You took your time," John said as soon as he saw us approaching him and two other lads, who I assumed were George and Paul, the other members of his and Ritchie's band.

I was clinging onto Ritchie's arm, loving the closeness of the two of us and being thankful that we weren't arguing anymore. It had been a long first day of knowing each other.

"This a new bird, Ringo?" One of the new lads asked, either George or Paul. He had big brown doe eyes and perfectly shaped eyebrows that made my heart ache with jealousy for them.

Ritchie frowned. I held my breath. John all but fell on the floor laughing. He clutched his stomach as he gulped, trying to find breath around his giggles.

"Looks that way, don't it?" John finally exclaimed.

Ritchie snapped, "this is my stepsister."

I smiled, holding out the hand that wasn't gripping Ritchie's arm. "Debbie," I introduced myself.

Paul blushed, stepped forward and shook my hand. "Didn't mean to offend you -"

"I'm George," the second lad - a boy, really - said. I looked at him and saw that he was actually quite handsome; though four or so years older than me.

"Don't interrupt, Georgie." The first lad, Paul, I assumed, said as he elbowed George out of the way. I almost felt bad for George, though it felt like Paul quite often pushed George around. Paul smirked at me and I swallowed. He was _gorgeous_ , though it only became more apparent when he turned his charms on. Hooded doe eyes and a sweet smile that felt incredibly private. He made me feel like I was the only girl in the room - which I was, in their dressing room... but still, it felt special. Paul made me feel special. "Paul McCartney, and you are the loveliest lady in here tonight."

"Eh, eh!" George and John joked together, elbowing each other in the sides as they sniggered at Paul, "someone's turned the charm on -"

"Come off it, you two." Ritchie hissed at them. He turned to Paul, "lay off my sister, Macca."

Paul frowned at him before turning back to me, "reckon your brother's getting a bit jealous -"

"Rethink what you just said." Ritchie crossed his arms against his chest. "She's my _sister_." My hand dropped from his arm and my heart went with it.

"And now... _The Beatles_!" The four of them turned to me and smirked. They were all so handsome, though there was something undoubtedly wonderful about the way Ritchie's eyes shined in the dim light of the Cavern Club.

"Up front, yeah, Doll?" Ritchie asked in a voice which was only loud enough for the two of us to hear as he dropped his mouth to my ear.

I nodded, "you'll see me." I spoke in the same tone.

"I will." He promised.

And then he was following the other three up onto the stage, and I was pushing through the crowd to get to the front row.


	5. Chapter 5

The band were _incredible_. I had never actually seen them play before, but some of my friends had - or ex friends, anyway.

Everybody in the Cavern was dancing, and some people were even singing along to the band's original songs - which was amazing. All of the boys looked like they were loving what they were doing, and very obviously enjoyed being the centre of attention... they all looked so good up there, and there were so many girls going crazy for them, regardless of their boyfriends' reproachful sighs, glances and glares.

It was as if we were all bewitched by John, Paul, George and Ritchie.

Ringo.

I had to remind myself that Ritchie - my _stepbrother_ \- was Ringo Starr, best drummer in Liverpool (or so he said).

But he was amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

As he banged the drums and threw his head back and forth with the beat, I found my heart increasing the rate at which it pounded in my chest, the heat building up under my skin. He was so handsome, and everybody seemed to miss it - there weren't many girls screaming his name; most of them were screaming for Paul - in fact, there weren't any screaming for my Ritchie.

So I did.

"RINGO!" I cried out, reaching out to him and dancing along to the music.

He heard me, of course, because I was the only who was calling for him.

We locked eyes and I felt my skin flush. He smirked, and for a few seconds, there was an odd sort of tension between us. What was it? And why did I like it so much? It was different to anything that I had ever felt before. 

I wondered if he felt the same.

"RINGO!" I screamed again.

John looked directly at me and smirked, his voice seeming to become louder - as if he was putting more effort into singing.

He was mesmerising, too. There was something about his performance that made me want to scream for him... but he had girls vying for his attention, and my Ritchie didn't.

 _My Ritchie_. When had that happened? I'd only met him earlier that day, and so much had happened and changed between us.

I continued to cry out for my stepbrother, doing so until the performance ended and John announced into the microphone that the band would be playing at lunchtime the next day. They all put their instruments down and came off the stage.

There were girls grabbing at George, Paul and John, throwing themselves into their paths for just a few seconds of their time.

It was if they were already famous.

But nobody was trying to get Ritchie's attention.

I felt terrible for him, because he was every bit as talented at his instrument as the other three were at their own. I went over to him and linked our arms again. As soon as our bare skin made contact, he turned his head to me and smiled.

"Enjoy it?" He gestured to the stage with a nod of his head.

I nodded eagerly, "you were really good, Ritch."

Ritchie smirked, "you made that very clear... what was _your_ performance all about?"

 _I felt sorry for you. No one was screaming your name so I thought that I would_ \- I cut my thoughts off. There was no way that he could know I had screamed for him out of pity. Instead, I beamed at him, "you're the best drummer in Liverpool, Ritchie, why _wouldn't_ I scream for you?"

He hummed in reply and gestured to the empty booth in front of us; John, Paul and George were already sitting down, the three of them trying to fight off female attention. I sat down and squeezed myself into the corner so Ritchie would have as much room as possible.

But it didn't bother him. He slid in right beside me, and moved as close as possible. He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me even closer to him.

When at last, the other three had fought off the females, Paul turned to me. "How was I, then?"  
"At what?" I asked nonchalantly, turning away from the conversation that I had been having with Ritchie to talk to his band mate.

"On stage... with the bass? How good was I? Did I look good?"  
John laughed loudly, elbowing Paul in the side, "come on, Macca, d'you think she cared about how _you_ looked?" He paused for dramatic effect, "she was too busy cheering for her _brother_."

" _Step_ brother," I corrected, clearing my throat and glaring at Paul, who was laughing at what John had said. "And you all had enough attention, so I thought I'd share it out -"  
"I see," George drawled as he sipped on his half pint of beer. He looked at Ritchie, "you've got yourself a pity fan, Ringo. Nice."  
Ritchie looked very upset. He pulled me more tightly to him and scowled, his eyebrows furrowing as he glared at the three of them across from us.

"Hey," I said softly, leaning closer to his ear and tugging on his arm to distract him, "it's okay... leave it. Leave them. They're just joking."

He was now looking at me. He looked like the wind had been knocked from him.

I opened my mouth to reassure him - to tell him that he _did_ have fans... but Paul cut me off. "So how old are you, then, Deb?" I looked up and nearly shrieked.

There was a random girl sitting in his lap with her arms around his neck and his arms looped around her hips... and she had not been there thirty seconds earlier.

"Sixteen!" I exclaimed across the table.

"You gonna get a job?" George asked, still sipping on the beer. It looked as if he had hardly touched it.

I nodded, "try to, anyway! Do you know anywhere that's hiring?"

Ritchie's hand slipped from his thigh and laced with my own.

"Alan's looking for a new waitress." Ritchie told me. He spoke loudly, and the other boys heard it.

"Alan?" I echoed, wondering who that was.

"The owner of this place." John gestured around the club, though he didn't take his eyes off of me. It was very clear that he was checking me out, but I didn't mention it - and nobody else did, though Ritchie was tense.

I wondered how a brother would react if somebody was looking their sister up and down, and if a stepbrother's reaction would be any different.

I wondered what Ritchie's reaction was.

Was he tense because of how John was looking at me?

"Reckon he'd love a lady like you working here!" John exclaimed.

"She isn't a _lady_ , John!" Ritchie snapped, shocking the four of us and the random girl in Paul's lap. I looked at him in surprise, but he didn't look at me. Did he regret his outburst? I wasn't sure.

"Then what is she, huh?" Paul asked, practically talking into the girl's neck as he paused at leaving a love bite on her skin.

"She's a _child_." He paused, standing up and pulling his hand away from me. My heart sunk. "Nothing but a little girl who's trying to get into the world before she's ready for it." He stormed off.

Dolorous, I turned to John. "Do you know Alan?"

He shrugged, "shagged his daughter a few times -" I blushed a deep red at his language. John chuckled and said, "I'm just joking with you, Deb..." he stood up and came round the side of the table, grabbing my hand which had just been joined with Ritchie's and pulling me to my feet. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was being so rough, but didn't get a chance as he pulled me over to the bar and exclaimed, "I only shagged her once!"

He spoke to the man at the bar quietly enough that I couldn't hear what he was saying, though he jerked a thumb towards me a few times. The man looked me up and down, but not like John had been doing before at the table.

The man, who I assumed was Alan, smiled at me. "Come in Saturday lunchtime!"

I thanked him and John pulled me away, over to the dance floor.

He put his hands on my hips and dragged me closer to him. Instinctively, I put my arms around his neck and let him move me against his body as the band played a much slower song, pronouncing it "for all you lovers out there." I laid my head on John's shoulders and inhaled his scent.

It was divine.

I could have inhaled it forever...

But of course, the moment had to end.

Somebody grabbed my collar and yanked me away from John. I shrieked and the band stopped playing, and the dancers around us all stared. John was livid, that much was obvious from his clenched fists and barred teeth.

"What are you -"  
"I'm taking her _home_ , John." Ritchie snapped, "she shouldn't be here -"  
"She _works_ here, now." John grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. Ritchie lost his grip and glared at me as John wrapped his arms around my body and pressed his front against my back. I could feel all of him, and a thrill went through me as something poked me in the back.

Had _I_ been the cause of that?

"Then she'll be back for her shifts and nothing else." Ritchie grabbed my hand and pulled me away from John - or tried to - but I stood my ground.

I yanked my hand away and let John wrap his arms more tightly around me. "Try stopping me, Ritch." I turned to John, who looked extremely proud and satisfied with my words, "can we leave, please?"  
He nodded and left with me, sneering at Ritchie as we both passed him, our hands laced together.


	6. Chapter 6

I didn't know where John was taking me, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just wanted to be away from Ritchie and his horrible words at that moment. He had embarrassed me at the Cavern, and as if I wasn't nervous enough for my first job anyway, I was now nervous because I didn't want anyone to see me and mention what he had done.

John pushed the door of a flat in a dingy part of the city; more dingy than usual, and it opened. "This is me," he said as he led me inside. "Settee's in there, and records, too. Put something good on, would you? I'll just make us some tea."

I nodded and went into the living room, going straight over to the collection of records which were lined up on the floor against the wall. I picked a Buddy Holly record, his most recent, and put it on. I stood up and began to sway back and forth to the music, feeling like I could lose some of the tension in my shoulders. I loved how music always loosened me up and made me forget what was stressing me.John came back in and let out a low whistle. I jumped, turning around to face him. He was holding two mugs of tea, one in either hand. He put them down on the milk crate in the middle of the room which I supposed was meant to serve as a coffee table. "You're a good dancer," John remarked as he came over to me and rested his hands on my hips, "of course, that much was obvious at the club."

I blushed, "I, um... I'm sorry for how he was back there."

John shrugged, "you don't know yet, but he's always like that with girls he likes."

"I'm his stepsister," I reminded him, the two of us still dancing to the music; our hips growing closer together."

"I know that," he hummed in reply, "but I don't think he does." John paused, "he's made his feelings clear already -"

"We can't act on them -"

" _We_ , eh?" John asked, narrowing his eyes at me. "So you feel the same?"

I groaned, knowing that I had tripped up. "I didn't mean -"

"You did." John pulled away and turned his back to me. "I'll take the settee," he gestured to it. It was threadbare, and looked older than John himself. "My roommate is at his bird's tonight, so he won't be around. You can take my bed. First door on your left, past the bathroom."

"John," I put a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at me but kept his back facing me. I felt like we were on a different planet, the music in the background seemed to fade to silence. "It doesn't matter how me or Ritchie feel because it's wrong."

John shook my hand off, "I'm going to sleep now, Deb. Night."I sighed and hung my head, leaving the room so he could sleep. I didn't know what to do about the situation between Ritchie and me, because it was very clear that he was acting like somebody would if they had a crush on the other person, but it was also very clear that he had been trying to fight it all day - hence why he had been so unkind at times.

But by inviting him to share a bed with me, had I encouraged him?

Did I _want_ to encourage him?

John was right. Every time I even thought about Ritchie, my heart raced.Would my feelings for him grow as I got to know him more? We'd been acquainted for just about a day and we'd already had countless disagreements. I was at a crossroads with my heart and my head, and as I went into John's room and stripped down to my underwear, I pondered upon my decision.

* * * * *

When I woke up the next day, I headed straight into the living room to talk with John about the revelation that he had come to the previous night. But he wasn't there. I sighed and went into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, but the cupboards were bare and the only thing in the fridge was some leftover fish and chips which I didn't fancy that early in the morning.I decided to spend the day getting to know the part of the city that I was going to be living in - mainly to avoid going back to Elsie and Ritchie's house. I knew that daddy wouldn't be very happy that I had spent the night out without telling him, and I didn't want to face Ritchie.

But as the light of the day began to fade and the clock crept closer to dinner time, I decided to head back to the new house. Well, new to me, anyway.

I went in through the backdoor. Elsie was in the kitchen standing over a pot of something that smelled delicious, and daddy was reading a book at the dining table behind her.As soon as I entered, both stared at me. I must have looked quite a sight, considering I hadn't even brushed my hair that day. "Where have you been!?" Daddy exclaimed as he stood up and came over to me, his hands clenched. He looked furious.

"I -" I cut myself off when I saw Ritchie come into the kitchen. Our eyes locked and he stood up more straight. I thought back to what John had said about how he felt about me last night. My heart ached, wishing I could talk to him about... but if John was wrong about how Ritchie felt then we might never have a proper relationship because I had accused him of having feelings that he didn't.

"She was with me." Daddy and Elsie turned to look at him, their mouths open in surprise and disbelief. "Then why didn't she come _back_ with you this morning?" Daddy asked.I hadn't known that Ritchie had stayed out all night.I wondered who he had stayed with.

Ritchie shrugged, "she wanted to go shopping. I didn't."

"But Deb," daddy said as he turned back to me, "you don't have any money," he paused, looking back to Ritchie with a sly smile on his face, as if he had just caught the two of us out in the greatest lie of the century, "how did you go shopping if you -"

"I lent her some." Ritchie continued to astound me, lying for me. "And she has a new job anyway, so she's going to pay it back."

"A job?" Elsie echoed, glossing over the fact that I didn't have any shopping bags with me.Daddy looked like he would keel over.I nodded, "at the Cavern Club," I told them, "I'm the new waitress."

"A _waitress_?" Daddy echoed, "but you're so young!"

"Ritchie and his friends are there all the time," Elsie reassured him, coming over and taking me into her arms. She kissed the top of my head and my eyes widened. I looked away from daddy and to Ritchie again, who was beaming at me. "They'll look after her, Harry love, won't you, Ritch?"

Daddy looked at Ritchie, who was smiling and nodding. "Of course we will."

"Right..." daddy said, "so, go upstairs and get changed, then -"

Before he could even finish the instruction, I was away and striding past Ritchie, grabbing his arm and pulling him up the stairs with me.


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as were in our bedroom, I pushed him down onto the bed that we were to share, and then I slammed the bedroom door shut. I strode back over to him, though the room was so small that it was just a few steps.

"Why are you covering for me?" I asked him in an angry tone. I realised that no matter how happy I was that he had lied for me, I couldn't ignore how he had treated me last night.

"You'd do the same for me -"  
"Oh come off it, Ritchie," I spat at him, seeing red, "I barely even know you. We've been thrown together in this stupid situation, and now you're lying for me - why?"

"Just being nice -"  
"Tell me the fucking truth or I swear to God..." I scowled at him, crossing my arms against my chest. His eyes went to my chest and I realised what he was looking at; my breasts. They were large, but with my arms pushed underneath them, they were perky and even bigger.

I wondered what he was thinking about them.

Ritchie sighed deeply, closed his eyes for several seconds and then opened them before he explained, "I was unreasonable last night."

"You were." I agreed.

"If you want to give yourself to John, then that's your problem -"

I breathed out in laughter. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't _believe_ the audacity of my stupid stepbrother.

"I didn't _give_ myself to him. I've never _given_ myself to anybody, Ritchie, not that it's any of your business -"  
"You haven't?" He asked in disbelief, leaning forward slightly.

"Why?" I asked him in an accusatory tone, "is that a surprise to you? Did you assume that your sixteen-year-old stepsister would be a slut?"  
"No, I..." Ritchie bit his lip, "I didn't think that, I just... it seems like not many girls your age are still, y'know, virgins..."

"Yeah, well." I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

"Why?"

"Why what?"  
"Why have you never... y'know... been with someone?" He looked up at me through his thick eyelashes and I felt my heart melt.

I definitely felt something for him, and I didn't think it was a normal feeling for a stepsister to feel for her stepbrother.

"Because I'm waiting for the right boy -"

Ritchie scoffed. "You'll be lucky to find him in this shit heap." He stood up and came to stand directly in front of me. There was a mere two inches between us. I held my breath because his scent was intoxicating, making me dizzy. We stood in silence for a solid minute, both of our chests rising and falling quickly because of the way we were feeling. I swayed on my feet, my head felt light. Ritchie chuckled and put his hands on me, one on either of my upper arms. He drew closer to me, an inch between our lips. "You should come with me to London..."

My breathing was erratic, and I was sure that my heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it.

"I-I can't, Ritch..." _I want to_. I wanted to go with him so badly.

"Of course not," he drew away from me and I felt like crying as the moment passed and the distance between us increased. He stepped back and let go of me. I almost asked him to put his hands on me once more, but I held my tongue. "I bet _daddy_ wouldn't let you."  
My eyes were tearing up. "Ritch," I whimpered, my shoulders wracking with the force of keeping my sobs in, "don't be like this -"

"I forgot," Ritchie said quietly, "you're just a little girl... you couldn't even go to the shop without daddy's say-so -"  
"Ritch, I'm not -"

"A child."

"Ritchie, I -"  
"Children shouldn't be working at the Cavern," he said, drawing closer to me once more. He moved so quickly that I had hardly realised what he was doing.

"Ritch, I'm not a child." I cried, now unable to stop the tears from flowing. "I'm _sixteen_!"  
"You're supposed to be in school!" He exclaimed, "not working! Not going off with my best mate -"  
"Is _that_ what this is about?" It all made sense after that. He was _jealous_ of me with John, even though there was nothing between the two of us. Ritchie remained quiet. "You're _jealous_?" I laughed, a high pitched laugh that didn't belong to me. Maybe it belonged to my alter-ego - the one who was in love with her stepbrother.

Perhaps _in love_ was a bit far to go...

Had feelings for, definitely, but _in love with_?

"I'm not jealous of John." Ritchie scowled.

I laughed again, "you _are_." I stepped closer to him and went onto my tiptoes so we were the same height. "Ritchie, you're jealous of John because of how I am with him." I paused, leaning closer to Ritchie's ear, "how I _dance_ with him..." I bit my lip, "close... how I let him _touch_ me, and push his body against mine -"  
Hot heavy lips were sandwiched against my own, and Ritchie's arms were around my body, pulling me close against him. His hands were blazing a trail over my backside.

And then, just as suddenly as he had been kissing me, he was gone and across the room.

"What...?" I traced my lips with my forefinger, my heart thumping in my chest. Did that _really_ just happen?

"I'm not jealous of John," Ritchie panted. I looked into his eyes and saw that the pupils were blown. "I was last night, but... I'm not, now."

"W-why?" I asked him, trembling.

I wanted to kiss him again.

I wanted him to kiss me again.

"Because I have something that he doesn't."  
 _Stop being so cryptic, Ritchie_.

He walked past me, so close that I could smell his efflux. My thoughts were jumbled once more.

He pecked me once on the lips and I gasped into it.

Ritchie smirked and pulled away, going over to the door. He opened it and stood in the doorway, "I have you, my Debbie doll."

And then he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

"How was your first day, then?" Daddy asked as I sat beside him at dinner, Ritchie on my other side and Elsie across from me.

I hummed in reply, digging into my bangers and mash. "It was great."

"You got a job," Elsie smiled, "which is amazing, Debbie darling. Where did you and Ritchie stay last night?"  
"Just a friend's." Ritchie said for me, "John's?"

"I hope you kept your eye on her, Ritchie." Daddy narrowed his eyes at Ritchie, who looked quite uncomfortable under his stepfather's intense gaze.

"I didn't need to." His reply made my heart soar, reminding me of what had happened between the two of us upstairs in our bedroom. The thought of spending the night in the same bed as Ritchie sent shivers down my spine.

Ritchie looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and winked.

I giggled, unable to help myself.

"Something funny, Debbie?" Daddy asked me.

I coughed, trying to mask my laughter. "N-no, daddy..." I bit my lip, "I was just remembering, a, um, joke that Ritch told yesterday -"  
"Probably not appropriate for you and Elsie to hear, Harry -"  
"You're telling inappropriate jokes around my daughter?" Daddy responded in a disapproving, slightly angry tone of voice.

"No, Harry, I -"

"I hope you're not," dad frowned, lowering his fork, "I trust you with her, Richard, don't make me regret that decision."

"You won't." Ritchie promised. "I'll look after her. Always. I promise you, sir."

 _Sir? That's very official, Ritch_.

Under the table, I laced our hands together. He gave my hand one quick squeeze and then let go, putting his hand back on the table. I furrowed my eyebrows - why hadn't he wanted to hold my hand for longer?

"Hmm," Elsie hummed, breaking the slightly odd tension that had settled between daddy and Ritchie, "so," she turned to me, "when do you start work, Debbie darling?"  
"Tomorrow lunchtime." I told her with a smile, "I'm quite looking forward to it, actually."  
"You'll be there with her?" Daddy looked at Ritchie.

He nodded. "Band's playing anyway, so -"

" _No_ ," daddy said with gritted teeth. Elsie sat forward a little, placing a hand on daddy's forearm to settle him... but it did nothing. I had never seen daddy like this before. I wondered why he had changed all of a sudden, and why he was being so hostile towards Ritchie. "You need to _watch_ her. Look after her. She's your _sister_ -"

" _Stepsister_ ," Ritchie corrected, clearing his throat as he squared up against my dad, not because he wanted to take him on but because he wouldn't be bullied. I admired him for that. "And I'll be watching her, but my band have to play. I'm not about to give up the chance to make some money just because Deb's gone and got herself a job at some sleazy -"

" _Sleazy_?" Daddy stood up and glared at me. I swallowed, looking up at him and feeling like I was a mere few inches tall. He'd never been like this before... what had changed? "You're working in a sleazy -?"

"I didn't mean _sleazy_ ," Ritch interrupted. I looked at Elsie, who was offering me a supportive smile, though she looked like she wanted to bolt, "I meant -"

"I don't care what you meant!" Daddy turned on me. "Debbie, this behaviour isn't like you! What has this house - this _boy_ ," he glared at Ritch for several seconds before he turned back to me, "done to you?!"

I was cowering in fright. Daddy had never raised his voice to me.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I was shaking.

Ritchie took one look at me and stood up, slamming both of his palms on the table as he stood against my dad, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly that I thought he might injure himself.

"Ritch..." I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to draw him away from daddy, who was a lot more muscly than Ritchie and could, quite frankly, beat him in a fight despite the thirty or so years that daddy had on Ritch. "Ritchie, come on -"

Ritchie turned to me and I saw the anger in his eyes.

"You're a bad influence on my Deborah -"  
"It's _Debbie_!" I snapped at daddy, who recoiled at the way I had spoken to him. His jaw had dropped and he was staring at me like he didn't know who I was.

"W-who are you...?" He asked me quietly, ignoring Ritchie and Elsie, who were also staring at me like I'd done something wrong.

I bit my lip, contemplating my next move very carefully.

_Defend Ritchie or beg daddy for his forgiveness... be who I wanted to be vs who I am. They're the same choice._

"Your daughter." I said, taking a deep breath before I continued, "the one who you - and mum - taught to respect others and to protect them when they were being treated unfairly." I took Ritchie's hand in my own, "come on, Ritch."

And I led him from the room. And he let me.

I had no idea where I was taking him, but my feet led me to the hallway, and my hands put my coat on for me. Ritchie was doing the same. Wordlessly, we left the house and headed in the direction of the bus stop, the two of us too stunned to speak until we arrived.


	9. Chapter 9

Ritch still held my hand as he pulled me up the stairs and pounded on the door with his free fist. It opened after almost a minute, and John was standing there. He was still in his underwear. He looked like he had just woken up, but of course it was almost 7PM, so he would have slept for about eighteen hours if that was true - and besides, he had been gone when I had woken up that morning.

Silently, I widened my eyes to plead with him. _Don't tell him I was here last night_.

John smirked at us, and his smirk only grew when his eyes slid down our arms and saw that our hands were entwined.

"Well good morning to the two of you, too." He paused, "you're looking very... _cosy_... anything I can help you both with?"

"Daddy kind of -"  
"He kicked off about nothing," Ritchie interrupted, "and he's mad about her working at the Cavern."

John clicked his teeth, "well that won't do - has he even _been_ to the club?"

"No." I answered as I crossed my arms against my chest and let go of Ritchie's hand. "He didn't even hear me out about it, just started whinging when Ritchie said it was sleazy -"  
"Well there's your problem," John turned and gestured for us to follow him into the flat, "you should have kept your big mouth shut, son." We sat on the settee, Ritchie first and me so close to him that I was practically sitting on his lap.

John went into his bedroom and pulled on some clothes before he rejoined us, sitting in the armchair opposite the settee. He was smirking at us.

After several minutes of the three of us sitting in silence exchanging glances with one another, Ritchie cleared his throat. "I'll take a cup of tea, John." He turned to me, "you want one, doll?"

"Doll, eh?" John raised an eyebrow.

Ritch and I both glared at him and he shut up, thankfully.

"Tea..." he got up and left the room.

I turned to Ritchie, "you have to be more careful," I told him softly, nuzzling my head into his neck. He reciprocated, doing the same as me. He pressed a soft kiss to my soft skin and chuckled.

"I don't like the taste of your perfume."

I giggled, "well then I guess you don't like the taste of me..."  
Ritchie drew away and looked into my eyes. "No," he said softly, "I most definitely do." He paused, "in fact, I'd like to taste more of you..."

I felt myself growing hot.

Did John have the heating on?

Did John even _have_ heating?

"I wish you weren't my stepsister." He drew away from me, shuffling several inches further along the settee until he could rest his arm on the side of it, and stretch his legs out comfortably without touching me.

The space beside me felt empty.

I frowned, opening my mouth to say something to him, but then John walked in and the opportunity was gone.

"You can stay the night, I guess." He put the teas down on the milk crate in front of us and said, "I'll take the settee, Ringo, you can take the floor -"  
"Ritch and I have to share the bed at home," I interrupted, shocking both of the men and causing them to look at me in surprise, "so he can just share with me."

"You _share_?" John raised an eyebrow and I nodded.

"Well we haven't actually had the chance to, yet, but we'd better get used to it, so we'll take the bed and you can have the whole of the living room to yourself."  
Calling it a living room was a bit of a stretch, but it was a room with a settee, an armchair, a record player and records, and a milk crate in it.

"Right, well..." John bit his lips, "let's drink this and head off then, yeah?"

We nodded and drank our teas in almost dead silence.  
  
  


Ritchie and I climbed into John's bed fully clothed. Guiltily, I remembered waking up in it this morning.

It didn't seem like it was that long ago.

He took me into his arms and pulled me against his body, burying his head in the space between my neck and shoulder.

"Y'know what you said earlier...?" I whispered into the darkness.

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Had he already fallen asleep?  
But then he grumbled, "yeah?"

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"  
"That you w-wished I wasn't your stepister." I paused, "that you wanted to taste more of me?"

He was silent.

"R-Ritch...?" I pushed after a minute of him breathing into the back of my neck and not saying anything.

"I meant it." Ritchie said quietly in a gruff, serious tone of voice as he tightened his hold on me.

"But which part?" I asked quietly, my heart racing in my chest, beating so loudly that I was sure he would be able to hear it.

"Both... but as we are now, we can't do anymore." He sat up and pressed a light kiss to my lips. "Everyone thinks it's wrong," I told him, "that w-we're wrong -"  
"Nobody knows about us." Ritchie whispered as his hands slid further down my body and cupped my hips. He kissed me again, this time a little more forcefully. I gasped into it and he poked his tongue into my mouth, immediately bringing it to massage mine.

"If they find out -"  
"Maybe it is wrong," he surprised me, "but we can control ourselves..." his fingers dug into my hips, "we can let ourselves have this... nothing else, just kisses."

For now, that would have to do. I didn't know if I would be able to control myself around him in the future, because everything about him made my nerve endings set alight.

But I was willing to try. I was willing to try and maintain a distance between us - I was willing to keep to only kisses, if it meant that he would be happy.

I nodded, and he pulled away, snuggling back up against me.

"Night, Ritchie," I whispered quietly.

"Night, doll."


	10. Chapter 10

"All you have to do," Alan explained as he handed me a notebook and pen, "is take the orders and note the table number. Bring the order back here, me or Julie will do it," he gestured to the bar maid, who smiled at me, "and then we give you the drinks to take to the table."

I nodded. It seemed simple enough.

"Right, okay."  
"Think you'll be alright?"

I nodded again, "it seems simple enough."

Alan smiled at me, "it is... just don't spill anything."

"Easy enough." I promised him. He gestured to the many guests in the Cavern, "get to it."

I went out onto the main floor of the Cavern and began my job, approaching tables of people who looked like they were getting to the end of their drinks or they didn't have any yet.

"Eh, Deb!" I turned, hearing John's loud voice across the entire club. He was holding up an empty pint glass above everybody's heads, gesturing for me to get him another. I sighed and apologised to the table that I was serving. I finished scribbling their order and then went over to John via the bar, dropping off the first table's order on my way.

" _John_ ," I said as I reached the table where he was sitting with George, Paul and Ritchie, "do you _have_ to shout across the club? Can't you just wait until I get to you?"

"We've been waiting for _ages_ , Deb." John complained, handing me the empty glass.

"About five minutes." Paul laughed, "I'll have one too, please, Deb."

I turned to George, "do you want another one, Geo?"

He shook his head, gesturing to his half-empty pint.

I looked at Ritch, "one for you?"

The smile that he gave me was on that felt very private; like it was reserved for just the two of us.

Paul cleared his throat and Ritchie's breath caught in his throat. He turned to his friend, laughing slightly uncomfortably at being caught staring at me.

"You want a drink, Rings, or not?" Paul asked, gesturing to me, "she's waiting for your order."  
"Oh, I, um..." Ritchie's eyes drifted to my face once more. I cocked my head at him, sticking my hips out to one side and clicking the top of the pen a few times as I waited for him to reply.

"Jesus Christ," John interjected. We all turned to look at him, not having expected him to say anything, " _yes_ , Deb, Ringo'll have a drink. Just leave them behind the bar and we'll get it when we're off stage."

"Oh," I gasped, "you're on _now_?"  
John nodded, "in a few, yeah."  
"Well I'll be watching -"

"Still cheering for Liverpool's least sexy drummer?" Paul teased Ritchie.

Ritch frowned and I said to Paul, "no... I'm cheering for Liverpool's _most_ sexy drummer."  
George raised his eyebrows at me, narrowing his eyes in confusion and discomfort.

Paul blinked several times.

John laughed.

"Y-you are still s-steps, right?" George asked.

Ritchie and I exchanged glances before I nodded. "Yeah." I paused, "why?"

"Um," George bit his lip, "no reason?"

" _The Beatles_!" The band which had been playing previously announced. The boys all stood up and hurried off - Ritchie was last. He grabbed my wrist, trying to capture my attention... not that he needed to, of course.

He was _always_ the centre of my attention.

"I need to talk to you."

"Now?"  
"No, after the show." He looked at the people around us to see if anybody was watching.

They weren't.

He pecked my cheek. "Meet me in the alley outside."  
I nodded and he dashed off.

* * * * *

"God," I said as soon as I saw him standing in the alley outside the back of the Cavern, "I thought your set was going to go on forever." I went right over to him and he took me into his arms.

Ritchie kissed my lips softly, placing one of his rough, slightly sweaty fingers under my chin and tilting my head upwards so he could look into my eyes.

"I couldn't take my eyes off of you..." Ritchie kissed me again and I sighed in delight.

Kissing him felt so right.

"We can have this..." I told him softly, "but we can't go any further. Just kissing. Did you see how the lads reacted when I called you sexy?" I giggled at the memory, even though it was definitely not that funny. "And daddy would -"  
"Do you _really_ care about what your father thinks, doll?" Ritchie asked me. He ran one of his fingers down my spine, applying just enough pressure for me to be able to feel it. I shivered and he smirked, pushing his lips against mine once more and pushing my lips into being pliant as he took the lead with the kiss.

"I think I have to," I replied after I had pulled away from him for just long enough to talk. "He's my dad. Don't you always care about what your mum thinks?"

Ritchie thought for a few seconds and then shrugged, "I don't care as long as I've got money coming in."

I sighed, "I wish I had that outlook, Ritchie... there are some things that I wouldn't do for money, no matter how much was being offered."  
"Like what?" He asked, lacing our hands together and rubbing both thumbs across the backs of my knuckles.

"Like, um," I blushed, biting my lip as I met his gorgeous blue eyes, "y'know... um, some girls... well, some girls have to sell their love -"  
He chuckled, "you mean prostitutes?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to his body, dipping his head and pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. I could feel him inhaling the scent of my hair, but I didn't mention it. "Don't worry, my doll," a shiver ran down my spine at the possessiveness of the now-familiar nickname, "as long as I'm around, you'll never have to do anything like that... and when I get rich and famous, you won't even have to work."  
"I'll work for you?" I suggested. I loved how safe he made me feel with just a few words.

"You won't have to." Ritchie promised, "I'll give you everything."

For somebody like me, who had never had a lot, that sounded wonderful.

"London's not ready for you, Ritchie," I said quietly to him as I tried to focus on his racing heart beneath my head which was rested on his chest instead of my own, which was speeding through my rib cage.

Ritchie chuckled. I loved how his chest rose and fell with the laughter. "London's not ready for _you_ , Debbie Graves."

"I thought I was your doll?" I teased him.

Ritchie kissed the top of my head again, "my doll," he promised, "always." I then moved my head and pressed our lips together. Our chests fell into a steady rhythm and we knotted our arms around each other.

This kiss was different to the others that we had shared up until this point.

It was full of love. A passionate, intense, _burning_ love that we could both feel.

I wanted every one of our kisses to be like this.

Once we had seperated, we held each other, but soon the time came for me to head back to work.

"Are you and the lads off?" I asked as he led me back inside.

"They've got somewhere to be." Ritchie shrugged, "they always do."  
"Well you can come back at the end of my shift -"  
"No need, doll," Ritchie paused as he opened the door that would lead us back into the busy main room of the club, "I'll just wait. I like the music anyway... and I like watching you."

I blushed.

I opened my mouth to reply, but didn't get a chance. Ritchie had already let go of my hand and begun making his way through the crowds, trying to find an empty place to sit for the rest of my shift.


	11. Chapter 11

I finished my shift just an hour or so before the Cavern was due to close. Almost everybody had left already, but there were some stragglers left... Ritchie among them.

He was sitting on a table that was tucked away in the corner of the club, as far away from everybody as he could be, and he was sipping on a beer that I refilled for him everytime I passed - which hadn't been often up until that point because it was Saturday and it had been a busy night.

But when I was finally finished, I turned to Julie and smiled. "Mind if I get two brandys?" Barring beer, brandy had been my most requested drink of the night. There had to be something desirable about it, and I hoped that Ritchie would like it.

She narrowed her eyes at me, "how old are you, again?"  
"Old enough to work here, Julie," I replied politely, "and besides, they're for me and my, um, boyfriend over there." I didn't know what had made me refer to him like that, but I had done it and I decided to stand by that decision. I pointed over to Ritchie.

Julie looked over at Ritchie, who was watching me. He had been all night.

Then she shrugged and poured the brandys out, handing them to me with a chunk of ice in each.

"Tell Ringo I said hi."

I nodded and took the drinks over to him.

"Hey," he smiled as soon as I sat beside him. Ritchie wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer, "do you need the money for these?"  
I shook my head, "it's covered."  
He chuckled and began to sip on his drink, "perks of dating a waitress at the best club in Liverpool."  
I giggled, stopping only when I realised that he was watching me.

"What?" I asked him, "have I got something on my -"  
Ritchie kissed me and I kissed him back. It was passionate - more than we probably should have been doing in public, but he had been drinking all night and his guard was down, and I found that I didn't care. Nobody at the Cavern knew his real relationship with me, and so as far as they were concerned, Ritchie was just my boyfriend.

That meant that he _could_ kiss me in public.

"Shall we got sloshed?" He had finished his brandy.

"Sloshed?" I echoed, waiting for him to explain what the odd word meant.

He nodded, "y'know," Ritchie paused, "drunk?"

"I've never been -"  
"Well then this'll be easy." He tipped the rest of my brandy down my throat and gestured to Julie for two more.

* * * * *

We stumbled out of the Cavern and over to the bus stop, the two of us clutching desperately onto the other to keep us upright. We were giggling and talking loudly at one another, but neither of us cared.

"Bus?" Ritchie called into the night, as if it would magically appear when called. 

I laughed, "come sit down, you crazy boy!" I grabbed his shirt and dragged him down to sit on the bus bench with me. He put both of his arms around me and nuzzled his nose into my neck. I shivered at the feeling, enjoying the feeling of his feature against my soft skin.

His nose was abnormally large, but I found it endearing. Sexy, even.

We continued to laugh into the night until the bus arrived, at which point we climbed onto it - Ritchie paid since he had money and I didn't - and then we went up to the top deck, where it was empty. He sat down first. The bus jerked forward as the engine started and I fell on top of him.

He let out a _humph!_ but didn't tell me to move. Instead, he looped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck once more. I giggled, shivering in delight and shifting my weight around in his lap as Ritchie began to suck harshly on my neck and nip at me teasingly.

" _Ritch_ ," I giggled, twisting in his lap some more, "what're you...?"  
"I'm tasting some more of you -"  
"But I thought we said -"  
"Fuck what I said." He answered gruffly against my neck, "I'm keeping to that promise. Just kisses..." To accentuate his point, he pressed an open mouthed kiss atop the area that he had just been nipping at.

I shivered again.

What he was doing felt _amazing_.

"Ritch, keep doing that, _oh God_ -"  
"Does that feel good?" He hummed against my skin. I nodded, squirming in his lap. "God, that feels good," he moaned into my ear, "keep moving like that, doll."

There was something beneath me, and it wasn't his leg. I shifted over it and Ritchie keened. He bucked up and I whimpered.

I had never felt anything as amazing as what he had just done.

"Oh God..." he pulled his lips away from my neck and looked out of the window. We were both panting. I followed his line of gaze and saw that we were approaching the bus stop that was close to home. "W-we need to go."

I nodded, humming in reply and jumping off of his lap. I didn't turn around to look at Ritch as I clutched onto the seat in front.

I felt so much more sober than I had done when I'd gotten onto the bus. I wondered if Ritchie felt the same.

The bus stopped and we both climbed off, our hands joined together and still laughing and talking between us, the steamy tension that had been between us on the bus was gone.

"D'you think he'll be mad?" I asked quietly as we reached the front step.

"About what?" Ritchie turned around to look at me in the light which came through the glass at the top of the door. His eyes widened and I frowned. "Here." He took his coat off and pulled it around me, doing it up as fast as he could and pulling the collar up to cover my neck.

"W-we've been drinking -"  
He shrugged, "I've come home worse," he paused, "just don't take the coat off until we're upstairs, okay?"

I nodded, unsure why he had given me that instruction but determined to follow it anyway.

Ritchie opened the door and led me into the living room. "Hi," he said to daddy and Elsie, who were sitting on opposite ends of the settee to one another, "we're home now. We're going to bed. Night -"  
"Why are you home so late, Debbie?" Daddy asked me.

I swallowed audibly, looking at the back of Ritchie's head and wishing he would turn around so he could see the worry in my eyes.

I was never very good at lying to daddy.

"I, um -"  
"The Cavern closed an hour ago." Daddy looked at his watch, "I called to make sure."  
"We -"  
"The bus was late." Ritchie interjected. Daddy glared at him and Ritchie took a step back so he was in line with me. "We jumped on one bus but then had to walk a bit further than usual -"  
"Yeah." I agreed quickly, "and my feet hurt so we walked slowly."

" _Debbie_..." daddy knew. I was sure of it. He knew that I was lying, and he knew that I was drunk.

There was no way that he didn't know. He wasn't an idiot.

With baited breath, Ritchie and I waited for him to continue speaking. We waited for him to scold me, or to tell me to go upstairs, but all he did was hang his head.

"I'm disappointed in you." And then he turned away from me.

And somehow, that was a thousand times worst than if he had yelled at me.

Feeling shattered, I turned and began to walk to our bedroom. "Deb!" Ritch called as he chased out of the living room and follow me up the stairs, walking close behind in case I fell backwards and hurt myself.

When we got into the room, I sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed, burying my head in my hands and my heart in the pit of my stomach. Daddy had _never_ turned away from me, even when we had had our worst arguments.

Ritchie sighed and knelt down in front of me, putting his hands on my knees which made me look at him.  
"Hey," he said softly, "don't think on it too much, okay? Everything will be fine tomorrow -"  
"What if it's not?" I cried, wiping my tears away as fast as they could fall but still not catching them all.

Ritchie didn't even dignify that with an answer. Instead, he sighed and stood up, taking my hands in his and pulling me to my feet as well.

"Come on," he said, "time for bed." I didn't move. "Want me to do it?" He gestured to my clothes.

Still crying, I nodded slowly, pouting. I needed somebody else to take control whilst I thought on my problem with daddy.

Ritchie's thick, calloused fingers found their way to the bottom of my dress. He pulled it up and over my head and tossed it over his shoulder.

And then he just stared at my body, which was bare save for my bra and panties - though my bra didn't cover much.

I felt slightly self conscious, but I was mostly distracted so there wasn't much room in my head to overthink things as Ritchie's fingers blazed across my skin, moving from one freckle to another, a scar from when I'd had my appendix removed and back to the underwire of my bra.

He was practically salivating.

I smiled at that and tried to push daddy and his words from my mind.

"I'm sorry," I frowned, "I didn't want you - or anybody - to see me like this." I paused, "I wanted to lose some weight before I gave myself to anybody -"  
"Lose weight?" Ritchie echoed quietly, the tension between us as thick as it had been on the bus. "Why would you need to lose weight?"

"Because when I turn like this," I turned sideways and moved one of his hands to my stomach, "you can see I have a bump here." I trailed his hand down my stomach. Sure enough, I went out and then in again as our hands came closer to the tops of my legs.

"Deb, you're perfect," Ritchie told me quietly, running his hand up and down my stomach which I was so self conscious of. "You're gorgeous. I told you that you're like a doll, why don't you believe me?"  
I began to tear up all over again, "because dolls are flat, Ritchie..."

"But those are _Barbie dolls_ ," he paused, "right?" I nodded, humming softly in reply as I tried to stop crying. "You're better than _Barbie_ ," he paused, "you're a Debbie doll, and _my_ Debbie doll at that."

We stood in silence for a few seconds as his hands roved across my body, purposely not touching my breasts or anywhere close to my core.

The tension between us was different to the tension that had been on the bus.

This tension was sweeter, somehow. It wasn't as heavy, but it was just as thick.

The relationship between us felt different.

It felt like the ground beneath us was shifting.

Where would we be standing when it had finished?

After what could have been hours of him touching me despite the fact that it felt like minutes, Ritchie withdrew his hands and turned around to get my nightdress. He put it on me and then pulled it down so it covered my skin completely.

He looked like he didn't want it to, but he didn't voice his desires.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Ritchie pulled the duvet back on our bed and helped me into it before he leant down and kissed my forehead, "I usually sleep in just underwear," he told me quietly, "but I could wear bottoms if you want me to?"  
"It's your bed, Ritch," I reminded him quietly, feeling sleep reaching out to grab me, "it's your rules. Sleep wearing whatever you want." I turned over to give him some privacy to change. I heard him shedding his clothes, and I heard the dull thud of them hitting the floor. Then he was padding across the well worn carpet and climbing into the bed beside me.

Ritchie wrapped me up in his arms and nestled his chin on top of my head, spooning me. I wrapped my legs around his ones and I could almost feel him smiling.

"Night, my beautiful Debbie doll."

"Night, my sexy drummer."


	12. Chapter 12

_Two Weeks Later_

Despite the carpet, we could still hear Elsie clip-clopping around in her heels. I heard her click her purse shut and then approach us. We were lying in the living room on the floor, the both of us on our backs with my head on Ritchie's stomach and the radio on in the background.

"Right," the two of us cast our eyes upwards to look at Elsie, who was wearing a frumpy dress, her old-looking heels and a green coat that did not match her outfit at all, "your dad and I will be going now."

"Where're you going?" Ritchie asked nonchalantly, stroking the hair on my head and looking back at me to do so.

"We're going to a friend's for dinner." She reminded us. "I told you this morning -"

"We were quite busy this morning, Elsie." Ritchie pointed out. I had been running late for the early shift at the Cavern, so I'd had to rush out the door, and Ritchie was escorting me of course, and so he'd come with me.

"Yes, well..." she bit her rouge lip, the lipstick staining her front tooth. I sighed, not bothering to point it out. "Anyway -" daddy walked into the room.

He took one look at Ritchie and I and sighed, turning away from the two of us.

I sighed again.

We still hadn't fixed our issues from a few weeks ago - he was still ignoring me... and Ritchie. Every time I saw him, I hoped that he would talk to me, but he never did.

"El," daddy said, "are you ready to go?"

She hummed in reply, "just telling the kids not to burn the place down -"

"We're not kids, Elsie." Ritchie pointed out.

"Well Debbie darling is," Elsie paused, "she's sixteen."

I flushed a deep red and chanced a look at Ritchie, who looked furious with his mother for her words.

Daddy left the room and I began to sniffle. Ritch glared at his mother, "just go, Elsie."

She waved goodbye to us, "don't wait up!" We heard her close the front door, and their footsteps going down the path outside.

Ritchie sat up and pulled me into his lap, holding me tightly and pushing my head into his chest so I could sob. Crying seemed to be all I did most days - the relationship that I currently had with daddy was really getting to me.

"Shush," Ritchie cooed at me as he rocked us softly back and forth, "it's okay... when we get to London, you won't ever have to cry again."

That sounded nice. I was sick of crying.

We sat in silence for the next few minutes whilst I composed myself enough to have a conversation.

And then my mood lifted when the presenter on the radio show announced that my favourite song was going to play next, "and next up tonight is _Sweets For My Sweet_ from 'The Searchers'. Get up and dance, ladies and gentlemen, because you won't be able to contain yourselves."

  
The music started and Ritchie helped me to my feet because he knew that it was my favourite song. We began to dance; twisting our bare feet into the carpet and swinging our hips. His hands were rested on my waist as we both danced around like we had no cares in the world.

We laughed and smiled, enjoying the song until the last note was played and the last word was sung.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" Ritchie asked me.

I had cocked my head to the side, and I was just smiling at him.

"Because you're something else, Ritchie Starkey," I told him, pecking his lips, "and because you always make me smile."

"Oh, Deb," he hugged me, "of course I make you smile, it's the best sight in the world."

I blushed again, "I'm sure you've seen nicer smiles."

"None as lovely as yours." He could be so soft when he wanted to be. I smiled and held him more tightly.

I loved him so much... and definitely not how a stepsister _should_ love their stepbrother.

"Ritch?"

"Hmm?" He hummed in reply, the two of us still tightly clutching at the other, "what is it?"  
"Can I do anything for you?"  
"Like...?" Ritchie trailed off, "like a favour?"

"Well sure," I replied, pulling away from him and going to the door frame, "a favour, or..." _or can I touch you?_ I wanted nothing more than to give him the kind of pleasure that kissing him gave me. "Or anything, really."

Ritchie thought for a few seconds, "I'd love a biccie right now, but Elsie didn't get any this week," he paused, "she said I'd put on too much weight if I kept going like I am -"

"You're not putting on any weight," I promised him, "Ritch, you're skin and bones." I paused, grinning cheekily, "it's all that banging you do."

"Excuse me?" He chuckled, "what did you just say?"

"You spend _hours_ every week banging your drums," I replied innocently, even though it was very clear to both of us what my intended meaning had been, "you burn all the weight you'd gain before you have a chance to gain it." I paused, "so you want me to make you some biscuits?"

He nodded eagerly, "yes please," he paused, "do you know how?"  
I laughed, "I was better at baking than my mum!"

There wasn't enough space in my mind to be sad about her; between being mad about daddy but also quite hurt because of how he was cheating me, the almost overwhelming feeling that I felt for Ritchie, and the struggle to remember my best biscuit recipe, my mind was full.

I went into the kitchen and he followed. I got everything that I would need out of the cupboards and preheated the oven. Ritchie sat at the kitchen table and watched me make the batter.

I bent over to slide the tray of biscuit dough shapes into the oven and I heard Ritchie groan. I closed the oven and stood upright - his hands landed on either side of me, caging me in between him and the oven. His front was pressed against my back and he was breathing into my hair.

"You're a tease..." he breathed. I turned slowly and found that our noses were touching. "My Debbie doll..." one of his hands went up to my face and took a few strands of my blonde hair, tucking them behind my ear before it retook its place on the top of the oven.

"I didn't do anything," I breathed back, not blinking as I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

"When you bend over, your skirt shows _everything_." Ritchie paused, "did you know that?"

I shook my head slowly, biting my lip. I actually hadn't known that, but now that he had told me, I was sure that I knew what his groan was for. Had he been _turned on_ at the sight of my lavender panties, I wondered?

"You're a tease." He repeated quietly, but this time he didn't wait for me to reply. Ritchie pushed his lips against mine and my mouth opened in surprise and delight. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, pushing our chests together. Ritchie pushed me back against the oven.

He picked me up without difficulty and spun us both around, sitting me on one of the kitchen counters and parting my legs so he could stand between them. Ritchie didn't even break the kiss once. I knotted my legs around his body and pulled him closer as I shuffled to the edge of the counter so we could be even closer.

"Ah, that feels good!" I moaned quietly as he began to grind against me. Our kiss was growing very passionate and very physical as we both ground our cores against each other. The lace of my panties and the seam of his jeans was rubbing against my special spot and I was growing incredibly slick. There was a tight, hot feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I didn't voice that to him. Instead, I increased the friction between us and tightened the hold that my legs had on his body.

We kissed for I don't know how long, jumping apart like we had been electrocuted when the timer chimed from across the kitchen to signify that the biscuits were finished baking.

Ritchie's lips were more plump than usual, swollen and bright red. He looked gorgeous. I wondered if mine looked the same.

"Fuck..." Ritchie muttered. He rushed out of the room and I was left alone. I felt rejected, and very hot under the skin. Why had he just run away? Did he not like what we had been doing just then?

I took the biscuits out of the oven before they could burn, and dumped them on the side. I took off Elsie's apron and threw it over the kitchen chair before I ran into the hallway, took my coat from the peg and put it on, shoving my feet into my shoes and leaving, slamming the door behind me so he knew that I was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

I ran to work, because I had nowhere else. I skipped the queue because the guard on the door; Mal Evans, recognised me, and I went straight down the stone steps and over to the bar. "Julie!" I cried.

She jumped in surprise at the way I had called out to her.

"Are you okay?" She put the glass that she was filling down and hugged me over the bar.

"Are any of the boys here?" I asked, ignoring her question.

"John's over in the corner, but he's with a girl -" I was out of earshot before she could reply.

I found John immediately, and he was sitting with a girl that I didn't know. In the last two weeks, I had met two of his female friends, but neither of them had been her. This girl was blonde, with the typical Liverpudlian high cheekbones and pretty eyes. She was wearing nice clothes, too - she looked like she had put a lot of effort into looking nice for her evening with John, and as I interrupted them, I almost felt bad for doing so.

"Oh, John!" I cried into my hands.

He stood straight up and came around the side of the table, wrapping his arms around me.

"What happened?" He asked me as I cried into his chest. He looked to the girl and mouthed something to her, but I wasn't sure what.

"Who's this, John?" She asked sweetly. John sat me down and then slid into the booth beside me, once again wrapping his arms around my body to comfort me.

"Cyn, this is Ringo's sister - well, stepsister, anyway." He paused, pulling away from me enough so he could look at my face, "Deb, what's happened?"  
"It was terrible!" I cried, not particularly wanting to go into details in front of Cyn, as John had called her.

John sighed and looked at Cyn, "Cynthia, do you mind if we cut tonight short? I think I need to sort Deb out and then get her home. I bet Ringo's going bat waiting for her."  
I chanced a look at Cynthia who looked forlorn, although when she noticed me looking at her, she flashed me a kind smile. "Of course not." She stood up, "I'll see you in a few days?"  
John nodded, "I'll call on you."

Cynthia seemed satisfied with that because she smiled and then gave a small wave goodbye to me before she left.

When she was gone, I looked up at John, wiping some of my tears away. "Sorry about your date."

John laughed, "she was a bit frigid, anyway."  
I giggled, now knowing what that word meant because I had spent so much time with John - who had a dirty mouth and an even dirtier mind - and the rest of the boys in the last two weeks.

"Come on," John encouraged, removing his arms from me and holding up two fingers to Julie, "what happened?"  
Julie brought us our drinks over, and we downed them immediately. Brandy didn't go far between John and I. She brought us two more glasses over each and then I began to talk.

"I was making him biscuits."  
"Is that a euphemism?"

I raised an eyebrow at him and then laughed, "if I knew what that was, then I'd give you my honest answer."  
"Were they actually _biscuits_ or was it something else? Like a code for sex or something?"  
"No, they were actual biscuits." I paused, "when I put them in the oven, we got a bit... further than we have before."  
"How far have you gone before?" John asked me, leaning closer as he downed his second glass of brandy from Julie, leaving just one more for him to drink before we'd have to have more drinks sent over.

"Just kissing." I promised, "we were going to just keep it there, but..." I bit my lip, "he said I was a tease, and then we got a bit further -"  
"Where did you get to?"  
"It was intense."  
"The kiss?"  
I nodded, "and I was on the kitchen counter, and we were, um..." I looked into my lap, not wanting to be looking at John, who had become my best friend in the last few weeks, while I said this, "we were moving against each other..." He scoffed but didn't say anything, so I continued, "and then the timer went off, and he pulled away and just... he just went upstairs."

"So?"  
"So I left." I paused, "and I came here. I knew that somebody would be here, and I'm glad it was you."  
At that, he smiled. "I'm glad it was me, too, because Geo and Paul don't even know that you two kiss."  
I sighed. "It's all so messy and complicated."  
John nodded in agreement, "it is, but so are most things, I suppose."  
Well that was very profound, and I told him so. He laughed.

"Come on, you," he said as he stood us both up, "best be getting you back to _Ritchie_."

I scowled at him, "I'm not going back there tonight." I pouted, "Johnny, can't I stay with you?"

John groaned, "the amount that you and your brother-lover have stayed with me the last few weeks, it's a wonder that people don't think we're in a _three way_." He laughed at his own joke and then linked his arm with mine, "come on, Deb, it's getting late."

We got back to John's flat. His roommate, Micky, was in the front room with his girlfriend, Suzie. I smiled and greeted them both, and then followed John into his bedroom.

"I'm sleeping on the floor tonight." He said, stripping down to his boxers, "no way am I staying in there with Mick and Suzie -"  
"We could just share the bed, John." I gestured to the double bed.

"We can't."  
"We're _friends_ ," I reminded him, "besides, I share a bed with Ritchie -"  
"Yeah and look how that's working out for you -"  
" _John_ ," I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him, "get in the bed. Keep on your half. Don't wind me up."

He laughed, getting into the bed. "Don't wind _you_ up?" He echoed, "Deb, you're the one sleeping in _my_ bed because you don't want to go home." He was quiet for all of about three seconds before he asked, "what are you doing?"

"Getting into bed."  
"You're in your _underwear_."

"Another case closed, Holmes." I answered sarcastically as I used my arm instead of the pillow. "You should join MI5, y'know, John, they'd get a lot more done with you there, I'm sure -"  
"No need to be sarcastic, Debbie." John grumbled, "I just didn't think you would strip, y'know. What would Ringo say about it?"

I scoffed, "as if you care."

John replied, "you're right. Our secret. Whatever. He doesn't even have to know that you were here if you don't want him to."  
"Thanks, John." I trusted John to keep to his word.

"Night."  
"Goodnight."


	14. Chapter 14

For a moment, I thought that I was back at home and in bed with Ritchie.

But then I heard somebody grumble from behind me, and their bottom half stirred.

John had his arms around me, and he was half erect... and his semi-erection was pushing into my backside.

I held my breath. I didn't want to wake him up, but I felt incredibly guilty about spending the night with John, even if nothing _had_ happened between us. I wanted to get back home to my Ritchie.

Slowly, I lifted John's arm and slithered out of the bed. I put last night's clothes back on as quickly as possible and then left the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

"Morning." I jumped, just about managing to hold my squeak of surprise as I turned slowly and saw that Micky was standing there munching on a slice of toast.

"Um, hey, Micky... I'm gonna go now... could you maybe just pretend you didn't see me?"  
Micky chuckled, "yeah sure, no problem." He held the toast out to me, "brekkie?"  
I shook my head and then stepped around him, going to put my coat and shoes on and then leaving the flat.

When I got home, I had no choice but to knock on the door since daddy and Elsie still hadn't given me a key to the front door. I knocked, and Elsie opened it. She looked grey, and she was frowning at me. I knew that I was in trouble.

I swallowed audibly as she sighed and led me into the front room, where daddy was sitting in the armchair, his arms resting on either side and a disapproving, disappointed look on his face.

I swallowed again.

"H-hi daddy -"  
"Where have you been all night?" Daddy boomed, causing Elsie to squeak and leave the room very quickly. "Where did you sleep?!"  
"At a friend's -"  
"A _friend_ 's?" Daddy echoed. I nodded, humming in reply but not daring to meet his eyes. Daddy had changed since living with Elsie, practically overnight, and I didn't like him like this... but he was happy with Elsie, and I would never try and break them up for the sake of having my old daddy back. "Was this _friend_ a boy?"

My silence gave daddy the answer that he needed and probably feared.

He began to shout at me, ranting and raving and standing up, pacing back and forth across the room as he lectured me.

I was quivering.

I was crying.

I was _begging_ for the ground to open and swallow me up.

"What the bloody Hell is -" Ritchie was standing in the doorway in just his underwear, rubbing his eyes... but when he saw daddy towering over me, his face a deep crimson and steam practically hissing out of his ears, he hurried over and put himself between me and daddy, pushing me further behind him.

"Get out the fucking way, _Richard_."  
"You can't talk to her like that!" Ritchie yelled, "you're scaring her -"  
"She's _my_ daughter -"  
"And my sister!" Ritchie snapped, standing up straighter as he squared up to daddy. I wanted to run to Elsie and beg her to stop them, but she was a weak woman and did whatever daddy told her to.

"And my _fucking_ daughter!" Daddy pushed Ritchie. He stumbled backwards and into me. I caught him and Ritchie regained his full height, clenching his fists.

"How _dare_ you touch me!" Ritchie took a step closer to my dad, "you're nothing but a fucking bully! You push around and abuse your own daughter, and for what? You're not a big fucking lad or anything, you're a -"  
"Ritchie!" I screamed in horror as daddy punched Ritchie's face and he fell, the side of his body hitting the wooden coffee table in the middle of the room and making a horrible sound that made my skin crawl.

I fell to my knees beside him. He was bleeding already despite the fact that the cut wasn't too deep.

I looked up at daddy with tears in my eyes. "I fucking _hate_ you." I spat as I helped Ritchie to his feet and wrapped my arm around his waist to support his weight. I took him into the hallway and handed him a coat and shoes.

"I'm in my underwear..." he groaned, clutching at the scratch on his side.

"We're not staying here another minute!"

"Get a shirt, at least -"  
I opened the front door and helped him out. Ritchie was in too much pain to argue as I said, "John'll lend you something." I knew of nowhere else we could go. Paul or George's, maybe, but their parents would have asked questions. No, John's was the best option for us. "Come on, Ritch," I said, trying to hurry him along the pavement lest daddy came out and screamed at us again, "we need to get you cleaned up."


	15. Chapter 15

"Don't look so fucking happy, Lennon." Ritchie said by way of a greeting as soon as John opened the door. He was leaning against the door frame in his underwear. Why was he always only wearing his underwear?

He looked me up and down very blatantly. Ritchie was rigid beside me, seething. 

I could almost hear his thoughts, _why on Earth is John staring at you like that?!_

I didn't know, and I didn't voice my reply as John asked, "a'right?"

"Deb's dad had a go at her." Ritchie cocked his head towards me, "we've left."  
"Have _we_ now?" John smirked at me. I hated how he was seemingly teasing us about this. Ritchie cleared his throat. John glared at him, clearly annoyed with his interruption. "Wonderful."

I took the initiative, "we need a place to stay, John." I paused, "and somewhere that we can clean Ritchie up - daddy took a swing at him... and he's only wearing his pants under that coat."  
John's eyes widened and looked at Ritchie, who was shivering.

"Get in here!" John pushed us inside of the flat and then closed the door. He turned to us. We were just standing in the hallway, "Micky's here, but Suzie's not." 

Ah yes, Suzie had been here last night. I had forgotten entirely.

"We won't be a problem." I promised. "We'll take the settee."  
John laughed, "oh no you won't. Micky will, and I'll have his room." John paused, "you two share at home right?"

Ritchie nodded. "Yes."  
"Then you can share my bed." He paused and looked at me, "might as well be your bed, though, Deb, you spend more nights in it than I do."

John walked past us and Ritchie turned to me. " _What_ did John mean by that?"  
I swallowed, "Ritch, John and I are just friends. Sometimes when I'm stressed, I come here, and John lets me take his bed -"  
"And he stays on the settee?"

 _Not exactly_.

I swallowed again and nodded, taking the plunge. The only way to protect the somewhat fragile relationship between me and Ritchie in that moment was to lie. "Yeah. Yeah, he does."

"Were you here last night?"

I nodded again. "Yes, but -"

Ritchie shook his head, holding up a hand so I would be quiet. "It's fine. As long as you're okay..." we went into the kitchen, where John was making us a cup of tea each now that he had put some trousers on. "I'll go back tomorrow while your dad is at work and get some of our clothes, but we'll have to make do for now."  
I made him sit on the kitchen counter and take the coat off so I could dab at the still-bleeding scratches with a wet cloth.

John said, "I was about to take some washing round to my Aunt Mimi - I could throw your stuff in, too?"

Ritchie and I both looked at him in surprise. It wasn't like John to be so accommodating. Normally, whenever I or Ritchie slept at John's, he just left us to it and didn't extend olive branches that weren't necessary.

"Thanks, John, but I'm sure we will be fine -"  
"I actually need a clean dress for work tomorrow." I said, interrupting Ritchie, much to his chagrin. "Let me just take it off, then -" I cut myself off, "I have nothing to wear."  
"You can have one of my shirts," John offered as he led Ritchie and me into his bedroom, the same one that I had been in just two or so hours previously. "Ringo's already reserved one, so what's one more?"  
He rifled through his drawers and took two out. He handed me a cotton blue one and I thanked him, and then he handed a red one to Ritchie.

As I looked at John's shirt, which was extremely creased, I wondered what Ritchie would think of me wearing another man's shirt.

He didn't look best pleased, but I tried not to look at him as I voiced my next request, "and um, could you take my underwear, too? I haven't got any that're clean for work, and -"  
"John held out his hand, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his angular face. "Take 'em off."

"What?" I squeaked, " _now_?" He nodded and I shrugged, reaching under my dress and pulling my panties down.

Ritchie's eyes were wide and John looked like all of his Christmases had come at once.

I held up my panties, "take 'em, then, Johnny boy."

He reached forward and snatched them from me, keeping eye contact with Ritch as he waved them around in front of us. "Nice." He paused, "I'll wash those myself." I blushed. I had changed a lot in the last two weeks since I had met Ritchie, but I was still slightly embarassed at seeing John with my underwear, obviously teasing Ritchie with them.

"John," Ritchie warned in a low voice, "I'll go to Mimi's with you." He snatched the knickers from his friend and turned to me, "and you," he narrowed his eyes, "stop teasing."

"I'm not -"

John laughed, "she doesn't like Paul cos he lived in Speke as a kid, what do you think she'd say about the lad who _still_ lives in the Dingle?" Ritchie blushed because he was embarassed. John took my knickers back from him. "I'll take them," he turned to me and grinned like a kid with a wicked secret, "and I promise that I won't keep them." He pocketed them in the back of his trousers and then he pulled out a third shirt from the drawer, putting it on and doing up the buttons before he focused his attention on Ritchie and me again. "Have fun here, today," he paused, "but not _too_ much fun."  
And then he left, and I groaned as I looked at Ritchie.

"I hate him." Ritch grumbled.

I laughed and put my arms around his bare chest. He was still holding the shirt.

"It's only for the night." I reminded him, "we could probably go back tomorrow, though daddy might still be quite mad with the two of us."

"I hate _him_." Ritchie repeated, "I don't understand why he treats you like that. I don't understand why he's so horrible - how he could _want_ to shout at you and see the fear in your eyes..." he shivered, "I hate seeing you like that. He's hurting you. I would _never_ hurt you like that."  
I nodded, going onto my tiptoes to kiss him, "I know you wouldn't, Ritch," I paused, "that's why I..." _I love you. That's why I love you_. "That's why I trust you."

Ritchie frowned, but only momentarily. If I hadn't had known him well, then I wouldn't have even been able to pick up on it.

But I did know him well.

Had he _wanted_ me to profess my love for him?

"You didn't give him your bra." Ritchie observed with a smile as he seperated our lips.

"I forgot," I told him honestly. "Turn around so I can get changed -"  
"I've seen you in your undies before." He paused, "remember?"  
"Yeah, but you've never seen me _without_ them," I smirked, "turn around, you dirty boy."

Ritchie laughed and turned his back. I began to strip, but I caught him peaking once. I didn't care too much, because he tried not to make it obvious.

I took off my bra and then looked up at him.

His head was turned so he could look over his shoulder at me, and his eyes were wide.

"Everything you thought they would be?" I teased.

"You're gorgeous." Ritchie turned around completely. I began to put John's shirt on, but Ritchie put his hands on either side of my hips and pulled me closer to him, ducking his head and placing a soft kiss on my collar bone.

"Ritch, what're you -?" I moaned as his lips touched my nipple, gently brushing over it as he dropped a soft kiss on my pebbled mound. "I thought we weren't -"  
"It's just a kiss." He whispered as he took the same nipple into his mouth, "I'm just kissing you, my doll. That's what we agreed." He dropped another kiss onto my nipple, kneading my other breast with one hand, "doesn't this feel good?"  
It did feel good, and I wanted him to continue, but I was sure that the two of us would get carried away if he did. With a sigh, I said, "Ritch, we can't do this. We agreed on kissing on our _lips_. Not... not everywhere else."

He took a step back and hung his head, "I didn't know you didn't want to -"  
"I do." I promised him, "but we can't do this. If we go any further now, then it will be harder to draw lines in the future." I began to walk towards the door that led into the hallway. I opened the door and went to leave the room, but his next words stopped me.

"What if I don't want those lines?"

I froze.

I sighed and closed the door, turning around to look at him but keeping one hand on the doorknob and my bra in my other hand.

"We have to respect them. Whether we want them or not."  
"Do _you_ want them?"

There was so much vulnerability on his face and in his gorgeous blue eyes after he asked me that. It was as if his heart was hanging between us, and what I said next would determine whether the cord it was swinging on was cut or double-tied.

I bit my lip. "I just want you, Ritch." And then, before either of us could convince the other of what we both wanted, I left the room and went to find John.


	16. Chapter 16

"You look so at home here," Ritchie said later, after John had left. "You haven't done this before, have you?"

"What?" I asked nonchalantly, munching on a piece of dried, crusty bread since there was almost no other type of food in the flat - no butter to go on top of my bread, either.

"Walk around John's flat in just his shirt?" Ritchie paused, "I don't like to think of you here like that."  
I swallowed my mouthful of bread and lowered my hand, putting the remainder of my snack beside me. "Now is the only time that I have ever been here with no knickers on." I promised him. I gestured for him to come closer to me. He did, and I put one hand under Ritchie's chin, bringing him up to look into my eyes. He was so handsome. It hurt me everytime that the rest of the band teased him for the size of his nose or his height since he was the shortest of the four of them. "And I'm here with _you_ , not John." My words put him at ease...

Or so I had thought.

"But you're sitting on _his_ kitchen side with no knickers on." Ritchie pointed out, his lips trembling as he looked down at my bare thighs and the shirt that rode up quite a long way. "It's like you belong here -"  
"I belong to _you_." I promised him, "it's like I said earlier, I only want you. I'm _yours_ , Ritch. I promise. I'm your Debbie doll."  
Ritchie sighed, "I know, but -"  
"I wish you'd believe me." I took a sip from the glass of water that I had gotten myself a few minutes previously. I put the glass down and then looked back at him. "I can't even begin to describe how I feel about you, but I know it isn't how somebody should feel about their stepbrother... Ritch, how can I convince you that I'm not John's, and I never will be?"

Ritchie dropped his gaze to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

He looked into my eyes. "You are my doll," he agreed, "I know it. I just... I just worry..."

"I'm yours." I promised again, putting my arms around his neck and pulling his body closer to mine. I opened my legs so he could stand between them comfortably.

"I know..." Ritchie breathed as he kissed my lips softly. He moved his mouth to my neck and began to suckle softly at my skin, "let me touch you, doll."

He rested his hands on either side of my hips and I shivered at the contact. There was something different in the air between us; it was rough, hot and heavy. It was carnal, sinful and suffocating. It was delicious.

"Y-you want to...?" He nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact with me. I flushed a deep red and felt my core becoming slick. I had never experienced that feeling before, really - not to this degree, anyway. "W-what would y-you get o-out of i-it?" I was shaking. The thought of his skin against mine in any way was doing incredible things to my mind.

"I get to see you cum." Ritchie moved his mouth to my ear. He nipped on my earlobe and I shivered again. I moaned, arching my back to him. He chuckled lowly. "I get to put my fingers were no man has before... I get to take your innocence -"  
"God, take it, Ritch," I begged shamelessly, already bucking my hips against his groin on instinct, "you can have whatever you want from me. It's yours, please take it -"

Ritchie chuckled again, one of his hands creeping to the top of my thighs and then to the inside of it.

"You're so warm, my doll," he cooed, "I can already feel how hot you are for me."

" _Ritchie_..." I keened as I laid my head back against my shoulders to give him more access to my neck.

Ritchie was panting as his fingers drew closer to my core, which was aching and leaking for him.

"I know what we said earlier," he said as one of his thick fingers finally touched me. I bucked my hips forward and he chuckled before continuing, "but just once will be okay." He breathed deeply as he began to lightly slide that one finger up and down my folds, purposely avoiding my throbbing clitoris.

I nodded, not caring anymore about what lines we had promised we would adhere to.

If we crossed this line now then I knew that we would do so again.

And I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Please touch me, Ritch, I need you."

My words were rewarded with his calloused forefinger rubbing my clit, softly at first but as soon as I began to moan in delight, he picked up his speed and fiddled with me, playing me like John or George played their guitars.

The feeling was incredible. I had never experienced anything like it.

I was moaning and crying out his name, begging him for more.

"You like that, doll?" Ritchie shot out at me as his finger slipped off of my clitoris and found itself at my leaking entrance. "Can I touch you here?"  
I nodded, biting my lip and squealing in delight as Ritch's finger burrowed inside of me and slid in and out of my walls.

"Ritch, _God_ , that feels so good -"

"Do you feel full, Deb?" He asked me, adding another finger and parting them slightly within me. I felt _incredibly_ full. "All you have to do is cum on my fingers, can you do that for me, baby doll?"  
I was so close already. I knew I could do as he was asking.

"I just need a little more, Ritchie," I moaned as he continued to finger me fast and hard. "Just a bit more -" His second hand went to my clitoris, one of his fingers pressing it hard and fiddling with it until he hit just the right spot and literally had me screaming.

I fell over the precipice, seeing stars as I orgasmed for the first time.

"That's a good girl," he cooed, "that's my good girl." Ritchie kissed me as he fingered me through my orgasm, and I had never felt more amazing - more _alive_ \- than I had in that moment.


	17. Chapter 17

"Ritch..." when I had come down from my high, I grappled at John's shirt on Ritchie's body, trying to stop him from taking a step away from me, "Ritch, don't stop. Let me please _you_ , now -"

I tried to reach for the cock in his trousers (which he had also borrowed from John), but Ritchie pushed my hand away. I went bright red - more red than I was from our encounter, anyway.

"Ritch, I want you to feel good, too -"

"I _do_ feel good," he paused, "God, just watching you right there was incredible. When you cum, you're gorgeous. Radiant. You shine. Did you know that?"

I chuckled slightly uncomfortably. "Don't lie, Ritchie, come on, let me -"  
"When I think you're ready for my cock, then you'll have it." He smirked at me.

I shivered.

His display of dominance was incredibly hot.

"You're rock hard, Ritch," I pointed out, gesturing to the tent in his trousers, "just let me... just this once." I paused, "I have to get to work soon, and John'll be back before then, probably - well, he better be because he has all my clothes -"  
Ritchie chuckled, kissing me to shut me up.

"We have all the time in the world." He promised as he laced our hands together, the fingers on his left hand still slightly sticky from my release, "all the time in London, anyway..."

London.

With Ritchie.

It sounded amazing.

"You _do_ still want to come with me, don't you?"

We hadn't discussed the logistics of me going to London with him at all. The last time we had talked about it at all, in fact, was when he had teased me about needing daddy's permission to go.

Well, in the last two weeks, he had all but abandoned me, so I no longer felt like I needed daddy's say-so to go to London with Ritch.

I nodded, "if you'll have me with you... I don't think I could be here without you, now."

Ritchie smiled, bringing one of his fingers, which were entwined with mine, to rub at my pussy. He touched it softly, twisting our hands around so that it was my own finger that was giving me pleasure, "I'd _love_ to have you in London with me."

And so it was decided. I was going to London with Ritchie and the rest of the lads.

"You better have knickers on under that shirt, Debbie." Ritchie and I both jolted in surprise. Ritchie looked over his shoulder and I followed his line of gaze.

Micky was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and he was staring at the two of us.  
"Um..." I bit my lip, "hey, Micky?"  
"Is that your stepbrother?" Micky asked as he came further into the room, "hey, Ringo." He gave a small wave and then went over to the fridge.

There was nothing in there, and both Ritchie and I knew that.

Micky stood upright when he saw that it was empty. "Empty fridge." He shrugged.

"Uh huh..." I paused, "and uh, yeah... Ritchie's my stepbrother." Ritchie had stepped out from between my legs and had closed them, standing in front of me protectively in case any of my private part was on display.

"Right..." Micky let out a low whistle, "is that, um, something that your parents are okay with?"

Ritchie and I exchanged glances and then pursed our lips. It was like looking in a mirror.

Ritchie turned back to Micky and shrugged, "we don't care what our parents think."

Micky shrugged, "whatever, mate. I'm just happy if you're happy." He held up his hands in surrender, "you do you... or you do her, whatever makes you good -"  
" _Micky_!" I gasped, blushing.

Him and Ritchie both chuckled, "just, um," Micky bit his lip, "peace and love!" And then he ducked out of the kitchen and went to his own room.

I sighed and facepalmed. Ritchie took my hand away from my head and kissed where it had been. 

"Hey," he said softly, "we'd better get you cleaned up - and the counter, too. John'll be back with your clothes for work, soon."

I nodded, he was right. Ritchie put his hands on my hips and then lifted me off of the counter, setting me on the ground and grabbing a cloth to wipe where I had just been sitting.


	18. Chapter 18

Ritchie sat in the corner with John, Micky, Suzie, Paul and his girlfriend Dot, and George. I whizzed past them every hour or so to take their empty glasses and to get their order for their next set of drinks, but I didn't have a lot of time to stop and chat.

The Cavern seemed to be getting busier and busier everytime that I did a shift.

"When's your break?" Ritchie asked after about three hours of watching me serve drinks and collect orders.

I shrugged, "not having one tonight, I'm too charged up!"  
"Charged up?" He pulled me down onto his lap so he could speak into my ear. Suzie, Paul, Dot and George gave the two of us strange looks out of the corners of their eyes, but John and Micky didn't even bat an eyelid at us.

I nodded, humming in reply as I clicked the ballpoint pen in my left hand. "All I can think about is you, Ritch. You touching me, you kissing me, just _you_. You're driving me crazy." He had one hand resting high up on my thigh, and I was acutely aware of it. I looked down at it and he followed my line of gaze, chuckling.

"Ah, I see." He took it off of me, much to my annoyance. "Well, when you're done tonight, we'll head back to John and Micky's for bed."

He didn't mean the kind of bed that I wanted, but I decided that I could suffer in his arms, our underwear separating us, for another night.

I smiled, "okay. That sounds nice -" somebody was looking around the club wildly for a waitress. I nuzzled my nose into Ritchie's neck, "I have to go." I sighed, "I wish I could stay here all night."  
"With us?"  
"In your lap, Ritch." I pecked his cheek and got up, turning to everybody else, "drinks, anybody?"  
They all declined, so I hurried off to the man's table who had been searching for a waitress just minutes before.

"Hi, my name is Debbie, can I get you a drink?" I took the notebook from the pocket of my dress and clicked the pen, holding it poised above the paper so I would be ready to write.

"Two lemonades, a pint of beer and then a half pint. A packet of nuts -"

"Mind if I lean down?" I gestured to the table, "I find it a hassle to write standing."  
He shrugged and gestured to the table. I thanked him with a smile and then leant on the table, writing down his order.

"You're pretty," the man said, laughing as his friend agreed with him.

I blushed, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the compliment from the men. "Um, thank you -"  
"Can I have your number?"

"What time do you get off tonight?" The first man asked, ignoring the request that his friend had made.

"Um, I have a boyfriend -"  
 _Not technically true, but not a lie, either._ I was entirely exclusive to Ritchie, and I was sure that he felt the same.

"Is he here?" The second man looked around.

I opened my mouth to reply, but the first man cut me off. He grabbed my arse and squeezed.

I screamed and swatted him away, jumping a foot or so back from him. The music that was playing ceased and it felt like everybody in the club was looking at me.

Ritchie was by my side in an instant. "What?" He demanded, "what happened?"  
The two men at the table were staring at him, their eyes very wide. I just turned, burying my head in Ritchie's chest and chancing a glance at the man who had touched me.

Ritchie caught on very quickly, and pushed me into John's arms, who had been standing behind him. And then he pounced on the first man, who I had found it almost impossible to look at.

Ritchie grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet, getting in two very good punches before the man realised what was happening and tried to fight back - but Ritch had the advantage because he was a lot more muscly than the man because of the hours that he had spent playing the drums.

The man who had touched me fell to the floor, unconscious, and Ritchie just mounted his body, still punching his face and grunting everytime he brought the full force of his fist down onto the man's face. I was sobbing and begging John to do something.

I didn't know how much more Ritchie could assault the man who had touched me without him suffering some permanent damage, and I didn't want Ritch to have to pay the price for that.

Suzie took me into her arms and told John to sort the brawl out. John tried to pull Ritchie off of the man, but he wasn't having it. John turned to Paul, who by that point had approached with George and Dot in tow, "don't just stand there watching, Macca."  
Paul stepped forward and grabbed Ritchie's other arm, the two of them working together to haul Ritchie off of the man and to keep him restrained.

I was a mess.

Suzie brought me over to Ritchie and literally handed me over. Ritchie calmed down as he wrapped his arms around me and pushed my face into his chest so I could cry. His knuckles were bloody and he was incredibly sweaty, but I didn't care. I needed the comfort that only he could provide at that moment.

As everybody went back to what they had been doing as they saw that the drama was over, Alan came forward. He put a hand on my shoulder, giving a small supportive smile to Ritchie before he said, "backroom's free, Deb, you and Ringo can go in there for a bit of time to get yourselves cleaned up... and take the rest of the night off."

I couldn't even manage a smile to thank him.

Ritchie had to do it instead, "thanks, Alan." He paused, "I owe you one." He then led me to the backroom, which was where the band which were due to play next usually congregated.

Ritchie sat us down on the settee in there, threadbare as it was, and put a bloody finger to my chin, tilting my head up so he could look me over. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"  
I laughed a little at the absurdity of the situation. I had been touched inappropriately, but I was sure that I would be fine... Ritchie, meanwhile, had beaten a man to near enough a bloody pulp and his knuckles were scraped and bruised, bloody beyond recognition.

Though I was sure that I would know them anywhere.

I took his hand in mine and kissed his knuckles better softly before I used the cloth in my apron to wipe some of the blood away.

"I'm fine, Ritch," I promised him, "he just touched my bum... but what about you? Are _you_ okay? He didn't get a swing in, did he?"  
Ritchie scoffed, "of course he didn't. Drummer's have fast reflexes." He replied proudly.

There was a knock at the door and it opened. John poked his head round the side of it, "hey, you two. You a'right?" We both nodded. "Good. We're going on, now -"  
Ritchie stood up, but I pulled him back down.

John smirked.

"I thought you'd do that," he paused, "we've got Colin from the last band to play with us for tonight, Ritch, why don't you take Deb back to the flat? Make sure she's okay?"  
"I'm _fine_ , John." I reassured him, "but thank you for the offer. I'd rather stay and listen to you play -" I cut myself off, looking at Ritchie with a fond smile, "though you won't be half as good without your drummer."  
John chuckled, "you've gone soft, Deb," he grinned at the two of us, "head back. We're going to be a while, here. Cyn's just turned up."  
"Cyn as in last-night's-date-Cyn?" He nodded and I smirked. "Have fun, John. See you tomorrow, yeah?"  
"Hey!" He exclaimed, "don't be cheeky! But yeah," he smirked, "see you in the morning, you two." He closed the door and was gone.

I turned my attentions back to Ritchie, and he was just staring at me with an odd look on his face.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as he grasped for the right words.

"You're just... you're incredible. I watch you and I just feel like..." he trailed off. I wondered if he couldn't find the right words to voice his feelings or if he was simply trying to keep his feelings a secret.

"You feel like what, Ritch?" I asked him quietly.

"I feel like I love you." I sucked my breath in. Ritchie studied my face to see if my reaction was out of surprise and happiness or out of horror. "Deb... Doll... don't seize up. I can't ever get you to be quiet, usually, so please don't go quiet now -"

"What about the lads?" I asked quietly, "when they know how we feel about each other, what're they going to say?"  
"Fuck the lads." Ritchie paused, "fuck everyone else but _us_. Debbie... my Debbie doll, I love you. I want to get you to London and be somebody other than who we are now - I want to be your boyfriend, Ritchie, not who I am now. Your stepbrother. In London, we don't have to worry about what people think because there will always be a bigger scandal than ours."

We sat in silence for several seconds before I smiled, continuing to wipe the blood from his knuckles. "You'd better not make a habit of bar brawls in London, my boyfriend Ritchie."

He beamed. I had never seen a man smile so much.

"I won't have any need to, doll. In London, you'll always be on my arm." Ritch paused, "nobody will even _look_ at you. You'll be all mine."

"I will." I agreed, "because I love you, too."

He embraced me. We just held each other for a minute as we processed what we had just admitted.

We loved each other.

He loved me.

I loved him.

"I've booked next Friday off." I said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between us.  
"Friday?" He echoed, drawing back from me so he could look at my face, "why? It's the busiest night, other than Saturday -"  
"It's my birthday." I paused, "I'll be seventeen."

Ritchie gasped in mock horror. "You've only given me nine days to plan a birthday for the woman that I love?" He paused, "you're evil!"  
I giggled as he tickled my sides, his fingers not moving as much as they would have usually because the wounds on his knuckles were starting to dry out and become painful. He was coming off of the adrenaline of the fight, and I noticed because he winced as he tried to tickle me.

"I know," I agreed, "as bad as the devil himself." I stood up and pulled Ritchie up with me, "come on, let's get you back to the flat where I can nurse your wounds properly."  
Ritchie smiled and obediently let me lead him out of the backroom. "What was the name of that nurse in that war?"

I looked over my shoulder at him as we made our way through the busy crowd, most of whom were singing and dancing along to the three Beatles and out-of-place drummer on the stage.

"Florence Nightingale?"

Ritchie nodded, "yeah, that one. You're my her."

I smiled adoringly at him.


	19. Chapter 19

When John and Micky arrived at the flat a few hours later, Ritchie and I were half asleep against each other on the settee, already ready to head to bed but we had wanted to stay up to see them in safe.

But they weren’t alone.

Suzie was with them.

“Are you okay, now?” She asked, coming to sit beside me. Ritchie yawned and I caught it, finishing before I nodded in reply. “I thought I’d come back with the boys to make sure you were fine.”   
I smiled at her kindness, but I was very tired so couldn’t do much else to reply.

“Anyway,” she stood up and turned to Micky, “we’re going to head off to bed, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nodded and cuddled up closer to Ritchie. She and Micky went off to their room.

John looked at Ritch and me, “well I’m not giving up  _ my _ bed so you two can use it for whatever.” He smirked at us, “looks like you’re out here for the night.” He went over to a cupboard and took out one thin blanket, which had a few small holes in it. He left it on the milk crate and wished us a good night before he left the room.

Ritchie got up first, stripping down to his underwear and then helping me to do the same. His fingers scraped along my bareskin, but I was too exhausted to be able to try and entice him into touching me some more. He laid me down and then laid down beside me, pulling the blanket over our almost-naked bodies and putting his arms around me.

“In London,” he said into my ear, “we’ll never have to sleep on a settee again.”

I smiled. That sounded nice.

“And we’ll have a big bed,” he promised, “a double, at least.” He paused, “and we’ll have this really big house where all of our friends can stay - loads of spare rooms. You can decorate the house however you want to, because I don’t care as long as you’re happy, Deb.” He paused again, “do you want a pet?”

I yawned again, “I’d have liked a puppy when I was younger.”   
“I’ll get you a dog.” Ritchie declared quietly, “and we’ll take it for walks along the Thames, and when we go on tour, you’ll be right alongside me.”   
I laughed quietly. “What about the dog?”

“We’ll bring Fido with us.” Ritchie answered.

I laughed quietly, “you can’t bring a  _ dog _ on tour. I’ll stay home with it while you go and be Mr Sexy Drummer.” I paused, “I know you can be.”

Ritchie leant up and kissed the top of my head before he rested his head again and tightened his hold on me. “Maybe you’ll be home with the kids, as well.”

“Kids?” I echoed in surprise and excitement, sleep slowly slipping away from me as we talked more about our future and the conversation became slightly more serious than a large house and a dog. My stomach flipped.

Did he really want kids with  _ me _ ?

“Yeah.” He replied in a tone that implied his answer should have been obvious, “mine and yours.” I was silent. “What’s wrong?”   
“What about your mum and my daddy?”

He shrugged as best he could whilst lying down. “It doesn’t matter. Nobody has to know whether they’re together or not. What’s important is  _ us _ .”

I felt so loved in that moment.

“Ritch?” He hummed in reply, “I love you.”

I could almost feel his smile radiating from him. “I love you, too.”   
“Ritch?” He hummed in reply again, “I don’t want to tell dad about London.”

“What did you just call him?”

“Dad…?”

“You never call him that.”

Perhaps that was symbolic, somehow. I wasn’t sure.

“He’s changed.” I sighed. “Ritch, he’ll try and stop me if I tell him that I’m going with you. He can’t know.”   
“Well y’know that I won’t tell him, doll, I’ve got no interest in talking to him and being civil. The way he treated you this morning was disgusting.”

He was right, of course.

And the way that he had treated Ritchie - the way that he had punched and wounded him was the worst part of it all. Ritch didn’t deserve any of that, especially not when he was just defending me.

“So tell me about these kids of ours, then.” I said as I snuggled closer to him and tried to change the conversation.

Ritchie seemed quite happy to do that. “We’re going to have three, two boys and a girl. She’ll be our youngest, and her brothers will look after her…” I fell asleep to the idealistic life that he was telling me about, and promising me that we would have.


	20. Chapter 20

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!” Ritchie and I jolted awake to the sound of Paul screaming in front of us.

“What?” I asked, almost falling off of the settee, “what’s happening?”   
“You’re in bed!” George pointed out, gesturing to Ritchie and me, who were only wearing our underwear, our legs knotted together.

John hurtled into the front room wearing his pants and an open dressing gown that looked like he’d had it since he’d been very little - it was so short on him that it was more like a jacket. “Wha’s going on!?” He looked awful; like he had woken up because of Paul’s loud exclamation - which was probably true.

“They’re in bed  _ together _ !” Paul pointed to the two of us.

John sighed and facepalmed, recovering himself quickly and going into the kitchen.

“John!” George exclaimed, hurrying after him, “why are you okay with this?”

The double doors of the kitchen were open, so we could see and hear everything that the two of them were doing and saying.

“They’re our friends, Georgie.” John filled the kettle up and then put it on the stove to boil. “Why shouldn’t I be okay with it? You should be, too.”

“It’s wrong! They’re  _ siblings _ . That’s like… like…” he bit his lip, “like me and Lou -”   
“Lou’s your  _ actual _ sister, you daft nut.” John answered as he counted how many of us there were and then got that many mugs out. He took out five teabags from the tin and then placed each one into a mug. “They’re not even related. Not by blood, anyway. And their parents aren’t married yet, so it’s not illegal right now.”

“ _ Right now _ ?” Paul echoed. Ritchie and I looked at each other guiltily, but as soon as our eyes met, we realised that we shouldn’t have been feeling guilty. We were in love. We were happy together.

Who were George and Paul to tell us that our feelings for each other were wrong?

“Make us a tea, John.” Micky breezed into the room, a yawning Suzie behind him. She rubbed her eyes and then came to sit on the settee. I moved my legs just in time but Ritch wasn’t so lucky.

He humphed as she sat on his legs but didn’t complain. She couldn’t have been that heavy anyway, so I was sure that he was fine with her there.

“And me please, John.” Suzie piped up as she continued to yawn.

John got two more mugs and tea bags out. I wasn’t sure if there would be enough water in the kettle for all of us, but I didn’t mention it.

“John, it’s still wrong, whether they’re related or not. They live together -”

“So do husbands and wives.” Micky pointed out as he took a seat on the floor in front of Suzie’s place on the settee.

“But they’re not -”   
“She’s coming to London with us, Paul.” Ritchie cut off his friend as he gently removed his legs from underneath Suzie, helping me to sit up with the blanket wrapped around my body so I could get dressed in another room without any of the lads seeing my underwear. He didn’t care who saw him in his underwear, though he did shoot an apologetic look at Suzie, who covered her eyes with her hands as he walked by her to retrieve our clothes and get changed.

“She can’t.” George declared.

“Why can’t she?”   
“She’s a  _ child _ .” George paused, “you’ve said it yourself before, Ringo.”

“I’ve said a lot of things. Stop being such a prat about this, George. I’m happy, Deb’s happy, and you should be happy for the two of us.” We left the room to get changed.

When we returned just five minutes later, George and Paul were still arguing that mine and Ritch’s relationship was wrong and immortal, though Paul seemed like he was slowly coming over to our side on the subject.

We sat on the settee again, close together as usual. John brought our mugs of tea in and put them on the milk crate in front of us. We both gave him a grateful smile - for the tea and for supporting us. He returned it, and then went over to the armchair. He sat in it, ignoring George who was frowning at every movement that he made.

“Why shouldn’t they be able to love each other just because their parents love each other, too?” John asked everybody in the room, “they’re not actually related. Who are you to tell them that they can’t love each other?”

“So you’re okay with it, then?” George asked, crossing his arms against his chest. “With  _ them _ ?”   
John and Micky both nodded. “Yes.” They chorused.

“So she’s coming to London?” Paul asked, though his voice wasn’t as accusatory as George’s. In fact, it seemed like he had accepted Ritchie and me - he had been nodding along with the point that John had made previously.

“That’s the plan.” Ritchie replied as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.   
“You’d better ask Brian about that,” Paul said, frowning. “You know what he’s like?”   
“Who’s Brian?” I asked Ritchie.

“Our manager.” Ritchie replied, looking at me briefly before he turned back to the lads, “you don’t think he’d have a problem with it, do you? He’s letting Cyn go with John -”   
“ _ Yes _ ,” John hissed, “but that’s for a different reason.”   
“Cyn’s going with you?” I asked John, “that’ll be nice.”

John looked tense. I looked at Suzie, but she gave me a small shrug. I wondered what the reason was that she was going with him.

“I’ll take you to meet Brian today if you want, Deb?” Ritchie asked me.

I nodded. “I haven’t got work, so that sounds good. Maybe we could head home first to get some clean clothes?”

Ritchie shook his head, “we’ll see if we can’t get something while we’re out.”

“Look at you,” Micky teased, “splashing your cash around!”   
Suzie pushed the back of his head and he squeaked. All of us - including George - laughed at the sound.

“Nah,” Ritchie replied indignantly, “she’s got to make a good impression on Brian, hasn’t she?”

“Why?”

“He likes everything to be just-so, Debbie,” Paul explained, sipping at his tea, “very controlling, but he knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh,” I furrowed my eyebrows, “well I’ll make the effort, then. I want him to like me -”   
“How could he not?” Ritchie kissed the side of my temple, “he’ll love you.”


	21. Chapter 21

Ritchie took me along to Brian Epstein's office, which was above his family record store, NEMS. We waited in the waiting room, the two of us jiggling our knees up and down nervously until Brian's secretary and the lady who ran _The Beatles_ fan club, Frida Kelly, poked her head round the side of the door.

"He's ready for you." We thanked her and stood up.

"You're going to be fine." Ritchie reassured me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. "Don't panic."  
I nodded, though I couldn't stop myself from overthinking everything. I smoothed down the skirt of the gorgeous green dress that Ritchie had bought for me on the way here, and then I let him lead me into the office.

Mr Brian Epstein was sitting behind his desk, and he was on the phone. When we entered, he held up a hand to signal us to be silent. He smiled kindly as he gestured to the two seats in front of him. We sat in one each and joined our hands in the middle.

Less than a minute later, Brian was off of the phone. "Hello, Ringo," he greeted Ritchie, "I haven't heard from you in a while. How's your mum?"  
"She's fine, I think." Ritchie paused, furrowing his eyebrows, "Brian, when I called earlier to arrange to see you, I was a bit vague -"  
"You were," Mr Epstein confirmed before he looked at me. "Hello." I smiled, "and who are you, then?"

He sounded quite nice. Very posh, even. He didn't have much of a Scouse accent, and I wondered where he was from if not Liverpool.

"My name's Debbie." I paused, "it's nice to meet you, Mr Epstein."  
"Brian is fine." He smiled, "the boys'll call me Eppy, but I'd rather that they didn't."

He frowned at Ritchie, who chuckled. "I want Deb to come to London with us, Brian."

Brian narrowed his eyes at me.

"Is she your wife?"  
"No, but -"  
"Only wives are permitted, and none of you are married, currently." Brian replied.

"But Cynthia's going with John."

"That is a different situation." Brian paused, "and if John has not told you why yet, then I am not at liberty to discuss it."

"But -"

"Ringo," Brian cut him off, "the band is supposed to be seen as free - available. If you bring a lady to London, and John does, too, then Paul's going to want to start being seen with that actress friend of his, and George'll find a girl, too. No exceptions."  
"But -"  
"Wives only." Brian sighed. "And it's nothing personal, Debbie," he turned his attention to me, "because you seem like a nice girl, but I'm not having my boys' reputations being ruined." He looked back at Ritchie, "I'll see you for the move."

Ritchie sighed and got up, leaving the room with me in tow. I didn't look back at Brian as we left, too upset to think about anything other than the future that Ritchie and I would not be sharing in London.

"Fancy some dinner?" Ritchie asked as we walked down the street, his hands in his pockets and me clinging onto his arm.

"I could eat." I replied quietly, staring at the pavement as we walked, my mind full of sadness.

"Nowhere fancy," Ritchie said, "just the chippy on Penny Lane. A first date, I was thinking?"  
I smiled a little at that, but then my mood darkened again. "What's the point in a date if I can't even go to London with you?"

"Married couples go for chips, don't they?" Ritchie asked, looking at me. I furrowed my eyebrows as I turned my head to him. "Look," he sighed, "I need you in London with me, no matter what... so if that means that I have to make an honest woman out of you first, then I'll do it. No questions asked."  
"But..."  
"But what?" We had stopped in the middle of the street.

I bit my lip, feeling like I was going to cry at the thought of what I was going to say next. "What if you decide you don't like me?"  
"Don't like you?"

"What if," I said, "in a few years, maybe," I paused as I wiped the tears from my eyes before I continued on, "you decide that I'm ugly? What if you find somebody who is better for you than I am?"

Ritchie kissed my lips softly, taking my face in either of his hands. "It won't happen." He promised. "You're it for me, Deb... and how lucky am I, eh? I get to have the most gorgeous girl as my wife!"  
I giggled. I loved how excited he was to take me as his own forever...

"I didn't even say yes, yet!" I teased him.

"You didn't have to." Ritchie paused, "you haven't walked away, and that's enough." He pulled me closer to him, " _Mrs Starkey_..."  
I giggled. I couldn't even fathom becoming his wife. I had never thought about being tied to him for the rest of my life before now, though obviously it was something that I desperately wanted.

"Yeah, go on then."

"What?" Ritchie asked in surprise, "really?"

I nodded, "yeah. You and me, Ritch, why not?"

He wiggled his head and shoulders to show how delighted he was.

"Not the exact answer I was hoping for, but it'll definitely do." He grabbed my hand and led me back to Brian's office. We marched straight past Frida and into Brian's office.

He was on the phone again.

When he saw us, he put the phone down immediately.

"Hello again," he smirked.

"Brian," Ritchie said, "my wife and I will be needing a place of our own in London."

I smiled. I loved hearing him refer to me as his wife.

Brian's eyes were wide.

"Y-you..."  
"And you're coming to the wedding." Ritchie paused. "And arranging it, actually, since neither me or Deb have any idea on what is required for our nuptials." We then turned and walked away. As we left NEMS for the second time that day, Ritchie muttered, "fuck Brian Epstein." I smirked, unable to not agree with him.


	22. Chapter 22

We did make it to the chippy in the end. Ritchie ordered us a portion of chips each, and he insisted on paying. Since I had been paid just a week previously from my job at the Cavern, I wanted to pay for my own, but he insisted that there would be plenty of time for paying for things when we were in London... as man and wife.

I could hardly believe it.

I was going to be Mrs Ritchie Starkey.

"So when do you want the wedding?" He asked. I swallowed the chip that I had been chewing, honestly not sure.

I shrugged, "whenever is fine with me." _Soon. Oh God, let it be soon. I want to be your wife as soon as possible_.

"It'd be nice to start our life in London properly, wouldn't it?" He asked as he chucked a chip over the railing and into the Mersey, "we could get married before we left."

"We'd have to do it before Elsie and dad did." I paused, "or it'd be illegal."

Ritchie hummed in reply, "could do it this weekend?"

"I'm working this weekend, Ritch." I paused, "though I reckon if we held the reception at the Cavern then I could work at the same time!"  
He threw his head back laughing. I loved the sound of his laugh. "You're _not_ working the night of our wedding!"  
I was no fool. I knew what was supposed to happen the night of a wedding between a man and his wife.

I had wanted it so many times in the last few weeks between Ritchie and me, and the thought of finally getting it elated me.

"Take this weekend off," Ritchie begged me, "we'll get married before Elsie and your dad can, and we can start everything together." He took my free hand in his own. "And I'll get you a ring, too."

I smiled at him, "I don't need a ring, Ritch."

"I can't have my wife walking around without a ring!" Ritchie replied indignantly in mock horror, "people'll say we're not decent!"  
I laughed, "well they've been saying that for a while, now." He nodded in agreement. "So this weekend then..."

He kissed my cheek, "I can't wait to marry you, doll."

I hummed in agreement, "I can't wait to be your wife, Ritch. And I mean that." We stood in silence for a few minutes, munching on our chips and just enjoying the wind rushing past our ears and the Mersey lapping across the shores on the other side of the railing.

"So tell me about London, then." I said, sidling up closer to him. "Are we going to have our own place?"

"Hopefully, doll," Ritchie replied as he chucked the remainder of his dinner into the river, the newspaper cone going with it. "The original plan was for me and George to share, but that's not going to do, now. Hopefully Eppy can find us somewhere before we get there, but we might have to share with George for a bit if not."  
I groaned, "but George doesn't like us."

"He likes us separately, but not together." Ritch paused, "anyway, when we're married, he'll have to come to terms with it." He shrugged.

"And the others?"  
"John and Cyn will live together, it sounds like. You heard what Eppy said." He paused, "and then Paul's going to stay with his new girlfriend, Jane."

"Jane?" I raised an eyebrow, "I thought his girlfriend was Dot?"

Ritchie shrugged, "who knows? None of them have just one girl -" he cut himself off when he saw my eyes go wide and my shoulders slump. None of them were faithful? How could I expect Ritchie to be faithful to me if his friends weren't to their girlfriends? "I didn't mean..." he sighed, "Debbie doll, you know that I'd never do anything to hurt you, don't you?" He pulled me into his arms, nicking a chip from my cone and stuffing it into his mouth before he continued, "I'll always try my best to be the best husband that I can be. I'd never hurt you by going with anybody else, or anything... I just expect you to do the same."  
My heart broke.  
"Oh, Ritch," I sighed as he swayed us back and forth, my backside against his front, "there will never be anybody else for me... and this weekend, I'm going to prove that."

He smiled, pecking my cheek. I giggled. "We've got ourselves a wedding."  
"We have." I agreed. "And Brian's got three days to plan it."  
"If anybody can do it, it's him." Ritchie paused, "he's done incredible things. I've seen it." He kissed my cheek again, this time letting his lips linger. "Don't worry about a thing. It'll be perfect."  
I believed him.


	23. Chapter 23

When we got back to John's, George and Paul had gone and Micky and Suzie were out. Cynthia was there; John's date from a few nights before and the girl that would be going to London with him.

With us.

"Hey," Ritchie and I chorused as we came in. John and Cynthia had been cuddled on the settee reading a book together, but when they heard us, they looked up.

"We have something to tell you, John... and Cynthia, I suppose, since you're coming to London?" Ritchie said.

"Who told you that?" John asked defensively.

"Brian." I paused, "but he didn't say why, so don't worry."

John breathed out a sigh of relief and then looked at us, "what is it?"  
Ritchie and I exchanged glances before we chorused, "we're getting married!"  
Cynthia and John's jaws dropped.

"What?" John asked, blinking a few times as he processed what he had just said.

"This weekend," Ritchie elaborated, "Deb and I are getting married. We're making it official."

"Is this some kind of joke?" John paused, "how did you know about me and Cyn? _We_ were going to get married this weekend."  
"You're joking." I paused, "no way."  
"John," Cynthia said softly, looking at her fiance, "you haven't told them, yet? You said that you had."  
"I didn't want to tell them before we were married." John answered her quietly, taking her hand in his own and patting it.

"Tell us what?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

They looked at each other for several seconds. They were silently arguing.

And then John turned to look back at us, "Cyn's having a baby."

And now mine and Ritchie's jaws dropped, the roles reversed as they dropped a bombshell on us.

"Is that why you're getting married?" Cynthia asked kindly, a wide smile on her face as somebody mentioned her baby. She was already quite attached to it, clearly, because she moved a hand to her nonexistent baby bump and stroked it back and forth.

"Uh..." Ritch looked sideways at me. I gave him a small smile, "no..."

"Brian wouldn't let me go to London with Ritchie if I wasn't his wife, so we just decided to get married." I paused, "the lads won't be very happy, but -"

"Fuck everyone else," John said, "as long as you and Ringo are happy then it shouldn't matter what everyone else thinks, should it?" He paused, "I live by this thing, right, and I think it's quite helpful."

"What is it?"

"Well it's a saying." John answered.

"What is it?" Ritchie repeated.

" _Everything will be okay in the end, and if it isn't okay then it isn't the end_."

Ritchie and I both looked at each other, and then we looked at John. Cynthia was staring at him, too.

"That's powerful, John." Cynthia breathed.

We nodded in agreement.

"You're going to do such great things one day." She said in a tone that sounded like she was almost pleading with him.

John looked at her momentarily.

"I know." He told her.

Cynthia sat back, moving away from John and going to the end of the settee.

"We could have a joint wedding?" I suggested, trying to fix the tension between John and Cynthia that had just developed. "You two and then us." I paused, "and then Brian wouldn't have to arrange a wedding twice."

Cynthia frowned, "you wouldn't mind sharing your special day?"

"Why would I mind?"  
"Well you two are getting married because you love each other, not so your child isn't labelled a bastard."

Ritchie and I were silent. John sighed, " _Cyn_ -"

"We'd love to share our wedding with the two of you." Ritchie promised Cynthia. She smiled. She seemed more at ease now that we had assured her that we didn't mind.

"Right, well," she paused, "we'd be happy to join you, then."

As if _we_ were doing _her_ the favour.

I liked Cynthia, and I liked John even more. Of course it wasn't a problem to have a joint wedding with them.

"Great," Ritchie clapped his hands together, drawing all of our attentions to him, "I'll ring Brian and let him know, then." He left the house in search of a phone book.

I gestured to Cynthia, "let's go for a walk, yeah?" She nodded and got up to follow me out of the house.

As we left, we saw Ritchie walking down the street in the opposite direction. I smiled at his retreating figure.

"You really like him, don't you?" Cynthia asked me, pulling her coat more tightly around her body.

I nodded, "he's my everything, Cyn... I didn't even know it was possible to fall in love with somebody in two weeks."

She looked mildly alarmed but didn't say anything. We walked for a little more and then she said, "I hope you don't mind me asking... but he's your stepbrother, right?"  
I nodded, "yes... but our parents aren't married yet - which is why we're rushing getting married so that we're technically not step siblings yet."

Cynthia chuckled, "well that's certainly one way to get around it." She paused, "are you excited?"  
"To get married?"

She nodded, "and to spend the rest of your life with him... I'm no expert - John's only my second ever boyfriend - but you should be excited to spend the rest of your life with the person you're marrying, right?"  
I nodded, "I'd say so." I paused, "and yes. I can't wait to spend forever with Ritchie... however long that is, anyway. Is that how you feel about John?"

Cynthia hesitated and I instantly felt sorry for her. "Cyn..."

"John doesn't _want_ to get married!" I looked at her and saw that she was crying.

"Oh, Cyn." I cooed as I put my arms around her.

"If it wasn't for the baby, I don't even think he'd still be with me!" We sat down on a garden wall and I held her more tightly, "he calls me boring. He says that I try and control him too much - that because I ask where he is sometimes that I'm not the kind of girlfriend that he wants." She hiccuped. "Well now I'm not going to be the kind of wife that he wants!" She bawled some more before she pulled herself together a little bit and said, "well at least he's marrying me. He's doing the decent thing, I suppose." She wiped away another tear. She hiccuped again, "I just can't believe that I let myself get into this position! My mother told me to be careful, but -"

"Shush, calm down." I said softly, noticing that Ritchie was approaching us rather quickly. I wondered if he had been coming back this way or if he had gone out to look for us. "It's okay, Cyn. You and John will be okay... what did he say earlier?" I paused, trying to remember his exact words, "e _verything will be okay in the end, and if it isn't okay then it isn't the end_."

She nodded, very quickly trying to wipe away her tears as she too noticed that Ritchie was coming towards us quite quickly. "It's fine." She pulled herself together quickly. "We're going to be fine. Me and the baby will always have each other... and John, hopefully, but we'll get by if not."  
"But -"  
"What're you two sitting here for?" Ritchie asked as she shed his coat and put it around my shoulders, "it's cold. Why don't you come back and have a chat?" He looked at Cyn and frowned, "are you okay?"

She nodded again, wiping away the last of her tears. "Yeah," she paused, hiccuping and putting on a fake smile for my soon-to-be husband. "Just excited to be getting married."

Ritchie turned to me, "you haven't been crying, have you? I hate seeing you cry."  
I chuckled, "no, I haven't been crying. I'm not _that_ excited."  
He gasped in mock horror.

Cyn and I giggled and then stood up. Ritchie linked his hand with mine and then the three of us walked back to John and Micky's flat.


	24. Chapter 24

"You look fine, Cyn." I reassured her for the umpteenth time, "better than fine, actually. You look a million quid."

She smiled at me but continued to nervously smooth her skirt down. "I think I look frumpy... do I look frumpy, Ringo?" Ritchie had brought me a new ivory dress for our wedding, but John had done no such thing for Cynthia. She was wearing her nicest skirt, which was a horrible pink colour, and a shirt that looked far too tight for her.  
He shook his head, "you look good, Cynthia," he reassured her, "stop fussing, though, in case you make Deb nervous."

I laughed, swatting his chest playfully, "she could never." I turned, kissing his lips softly. "I know that I want to marry you, Ritch, and nothing would make me change my mind."

Cynthia smiled at the two of us, but her smile quickly turned into a frown. "Where is _he_?" She muttered to herself, and not for the first time that afternoon. "He should be here by now!"  
John was nowhere to be seen. We hadn't heard from him all day - nobody had.

It was just us at the registry office that surprisingly sunny Saturday afternoon; Ritchie and me, Cyn and Brian. John was supposed to be here, too, of course, but he was missing.

"He'll be here, soon." Ritchie put a hand on Cynthia's shoulder to comfort her, but she looked distraught.

She nodded, patting his hand with one of her own, but she didn't look convinced.

None of us were.

Since I had known John, I had met three of his girlfriends - Cynthia being only one. He didn't seem like the kind of man to settle down so young, and I wasn't sure how successful their marriage would be... still, he was a good man for marrying her after finding out that she was pregnant, anyway.

"Cynthia," Brian poked his head round the side of the door. She turned to look at him with a desperate look in her eyes. "He's here."

She breathed a sigh of relief. I did, too, though it wasn't as obvious. For a few moments, I had feared that he wasn't going to show.

"Thank goodness."

Ritchie kissed my cheek and then seperated us as he went over to the door which Brian had left open, "see you in a few, Miss Graves."

I smiled at him, "you will." I promised him.

Ritchie grinned and dashed off to join the other groom and our witness; Brian, in the ceremony room.

Cynthia and I held hands down the aisle, and handed each other off to our loves. It was quite nice, because the only people that we had were each other and the men that we were marrying. I hoped that it would always be the four of us, because I loved Cynthia and I loved John.

Ritchie and I cuddled closer, his arm around my shoulders.

John and Cynthia were standing with a few inches between them.

I frowned momentarily at the distance between them, because I wanted nothing more than for the two of them to be as happy as Ritchie and I were and hopefully would be.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of John Winston Lennon and Cynthia Powell, Deborah Marie Graves and Richard Starkey..." Ritchie and I laced our hands together as we became husband and wife.

* * * * *

Brian stood up, holding his glass of whiskey in the air. We followed suit, me sitting in Ritchie's lap with one of his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and John and Cynthia sitting on the opposite side of the table for us, each on their own seats.

"To the newly weds," he spoke loudly. Some other patrons of the pub looked over at us and listened to the first part of Brian's speech, raising their glasses as well, "to happiness and to their futures together." He tipped his glass slightly and those that were listening did as well.

"To the newly weds!" Everybody declared.

Ritchie and I smiled at Brian and then turned our attentions to each other, closing the gap between our lips and letting our tongues embrace.

"God, you two!" John exclaimed once everybody had gone back to their own conversations, "get a room!"

Ritchie and I seperated our lips and then glared at him. Cynthia giggled and then blushed a deep red when she noticed John shift his seat further away from her.

"Speaking of," Brian cleared his throat before he continued, "John, as promised, you and Cynthia are welcome to my flat." He reached into his pocket and took the keys out, dropping them into John's outstretched palm. Brian turned to us, "I'm sorry, you two, but I'd already promised the flat to them before you came to see me -"

"It's fine." Ritchie paused, turning to John, "can we go back to the flat tonight?"  
John shrugged, "Micky's at Suzie's tonight, so there shouldn't be anyone there."

The first thought that went through my head was what we would do this evening. Usually we would have listened to a record or the radio, or just talked for hours on end... but I knew what a man and woman did on their wedding night.

The thought sent a thrill through me, though I tried not to let that show because John and Cynthia, Brian and Ritchie were all looking at me.

"What?" I asked, coming back to the present.

"I asked if you wanted to head back to the flat?" Ritchie paused, "it's been a busy day and I'd quite like to talk to you -"  
John scoffed. Brian, Cynthia, me and Ritchie shot him a glare, narrowing our eyes at him. He chuckled and downed the remainder of what was his third pint of beer that evening.

I didn't envy Cynthia at all.

As much as I loved John, I knew that he was a handful. I could only imagine what their marriage was going to be like.

I nodded to Ritchie, "yeah sure, let's head back."

He smiled.

"I'll call you both a cab -"  
"We can walk." I told Brian.

He smiled again at us, "my treat. For the newly weds."

We didn't argue because John and Micky's flat was quite a walk from the pub where we had gone for a drink after the ceremony at the registry office.

"That'd be nice, Brian," Ritchie said as he tapped the outside of my thigh. I stood up on cue and he stood up as well, "thank you."  
Brian fished around in his pocket for the second time in a matter of minutes and pulled out a _lot_ more money than the cab was going to cost. He handed it to Ritchie.

"Brian," Ritchie said, "this is too much -"  
"Get something nice for dinner. I don't want the change, Ringo."  
We both thanked him for the day and the money, and also wished John and Cynthia a good night before going outside to find a cab.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written with me by AllWeHearIsQueen (on Wattpad), and was edited by me.

I had never seen Ritchie so happy before in the very little time that I had known him.

He couldn't stop beaming from ear to ear. From the registry office and for the entirety of our cab ride, he had the biggest grin plastered on his face. Seeing him happy made me happy. "Let me get that," he said as we were approaching John and Micky's flat. He twisted the door knob, gently bowing his head as he smiled, "after you, Mrs Starkey."

Mrs. Starkey.

Hearing that from Ritchie rippled some kind of excitement down my spine.

We were finally man and wife.

I was now his and only his forever, officially and exclusively.

I returned his smile and walked in. John was spending the night with Cyn at Brian's empty flat, meanwhile Micky and Suzie were spending the night at her parents' house, meaning it was just me and Ritchie in the entire flat. I really wasn't sure whether they had all planned their evenings to give us the flat to ourselves on purpose, but it was well known what a newly wed couple did on their wedding night... and as promised to Ritch, I was going to give myself to him tonight. Everything I had was his.

"Well that wasn't your average Saturday," Ritchie chimed happily, catching me by surprise.

I shrugged my shoulders, putting down the small bouquet of violets I had been holding throughout the ceremony on the milk crate. "Guess not," I agreed.

Ritchie frowned. "What is it? You seem stressed."

"What? No, I'm not..." I sighed, knowing that he would know if I was lying. "Well, it's just that I was thinking about dad and Elsie, you know? I mean, how are they going to take all of this?"

Previously, I hadn't cared about what others thought about mine and Ritchie's relationship, but I felt guilty for not telling my father that I was getting married... or that Ritchie and I were even in a relationship in the first place.

"Hey," he walked up to me and reached for my face, holding it in his hands. I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, "weren't you the one who was so sure about all of this? Why are you worried, now?"

"I'm not worried," I replied, "just a little guilty, that's all.."

"Look we didn't do anything wrong. In the eyes of the law, we're just two strangers who aren't related. That's why we got married so quickly... so if the law has no problem with it, our parents shouldn't have one, either."

He gently stroked my cheek with his slightly calloused thumb.

"Besides," he continued, "we love each other. Our love is so strong that it's going to melt even that arsehole father of yours."

"Hey!" I playfully pushed his chest away and Ritchie chuckled as he took a step back to steady himself.

I love the sound of his laughter.

"Oh come on, Debbie... my doll... it's our wedding day. Don't be sad. Don't feel guilty. We should remember this day as something joyful and happy, and not be filled with guilt, because today is the day we became two hearts and one soul..."

Perhaps it was all the roller coaster of emotions I have been through in just a single day, but his words made butterflies flutter in my stomach.

He was right, of course.

I couldn't be sad on my wedding day. It was just wrong.

"You're right." I agreed, "I shouldn't overthink it."

"You shouldn't be thinking at all," he replied quietly, stroking my cheek again slowly, before he put his hands on my hips and pulled my body closer to his. "Tonight's our wedding night and I finally get to please you... to give you what you need."

I thought back to the kitchen counter and the words that he had said when I had begged for his cock. When I think you're ready for my cock, then you'll have it.

I blushed a beet red at his words as he kissed me passionately on my lips, quickly moving his mouth to my neck and licking softly at the skin, his hands running up and down my hips. I shivered in anticipation. My skin was hot to the touch as his words began to have the same effect on me as they had on the kitchen counter the first time that he had ever touched me.

It was mind blowing.

"Tonight I finally get to taste you..." he licked at my skin. "To feel you..." his fingers dipped just beneath the hem of my skirt, "entirely and..." He trailed off midway, confusing me.

I slightly pulled back and looked up at him, "and?"

He chuckled quietly under his breath. "You're needy, aren't you?" He paused, nipping softly at my earlobe, "you'll find out..."

He withdrew his body from my own, separating from me almost entirely but keeping hold of my wrists. He led me to John's room. My heart was hammering in my chest. Ritchie sat me down on the bed and slowly opened his coat before he moved onto undoing his cuff links as I watched up at him, blushing all shades of red and pink. He was very clearly making a show of undressing himself. I bit my lip as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing his broad neck and his sparkling St. Christopher's necklace. I was drooling already. He was so handsome. He was completely intoxicating me with only his mere existence.

He noticed me watching him and let out a soft chuckle. "What are you looking at?"

"Just thinking about how I got to be this lucky," I flirted with him as I leant back a little, using my hands to support my weight.

"You got to be so lucky? I must have hit some sort of jackpot, then."

We both shared a loving laugh as he walked over to me and knelt down, taking my hands in his large, warm ones.

"I can't believe you are finally mine, doll. I'm the happiest man in the entire world."

"I was always yours, Ritchie... from when you touched me for the first time on the kitchen counter, to when you took a stand against my dad for me, right from when we shared a bed for the first time at your mum's house..." I brought one of my hands to his cheek and stroked it tenderly as I spoke, "I became yours the moment you laid your eyes on me, Ritchie."

I could see the tears gathering in his eyes from my words. It was all true. We were just meant to be. Ritchie and I were meant to be together.

"I love you, Deb."

"I love you too, Ritchie," I replied just as he leaned forward to capture my lips in a soft kiss.

I quickly became overwhelmed, finding myself gasping for air as the kiss turned heated and my heart began to pound in my chest, as his hands crept behind my back, almost certainly with the intention of undressing me. I shivered as his bare fingers touched the exposed region between my shoulders and back and I hummed into the kiss.

"I-is this okay?" he asked, pulling away from me, dropping his gaze down to my swollen lips.

I simply nodded, the heat between my legs was building rapidly. He gently pulled down the straps of my dress, his eyes widening with excitement and lust as more of my skin started becoming exposed to him. I could tell that he had been waiting for this. I wondered how much self-restraint he had had to exercise to not go any further than a few tentative touches until this moment. My husband let out a low grunt as he noticed the absence of a bra under my dress, my tender breasts being revealed to him for the first time. I was a squirming mess as he took his time in caressing my soft melons, rubbing a gentle thumb over my sensitive nub and giving both of my breasts, a nice, soft squeeze.

"Oh Ritchie..." I mewled for him, feeling my core gushing already when he had barely touched me.

"So beautiful, my Debbie doll, so beautiful..." he whispered under his breath as if he were talking to himself. He buried his face in between my breasts and licking a trail through my cleavage.

I couldn't help but to moan as he repeated his actions, my body trembling with pleasure.

"Please take me already, Ritchie... I can't take it anymore!" I pleaded, leaning towards him to give him better access to worship my breasts, something which he was already doing so well.

He peppered wet kisses all the way up from my neck to my chin and finally my lips before pulling back and smiling at me adorably, "tonight, everything's about you, my doll. Only about you."

I was leaking Niagara Falls by now. I was so lucky to have a husband who could please me like Ritchie could, and we hadn't even gotten started, yet.

Every stroke of his fingers against my skin made my mind go a hundred miles an hour. The effect was incredible, almost as though I was being electrocuted every time that he touched me. He brought his plumped lips to my ear, nibbling at the soft cartilage, whispering for me to lay back. I did as I was told, taking on the role of the submissive wife in the bedroom without even having to think about it. Ritchie's broad frame towered over me. I breathed heavily.

This was really happening.

He pulled the rest of my dress over my head, leaving me only in a dainty pair of lace panties with a bow on the front of them. By that point, all of the shame of my imperfections, all of the nervousness at him seeing me completely naked, seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

Ritchie sighed, humming in appreciation as he roamed his hands across my body, familiarising himself with every part, every crevice of me.

I felt hot. I felt aroused. I felt like I was being worshipped by a God.

"You are so perfect, Debbie." My husband murmured, "and you are mine. Only mine." I would always be only his, and I knew that.

One of Ritchie's fingers ghosted over my throbbing entrance, covered by the panties, no more than a mere scrap of lace.

"T-touch me, Ritchie..." I begged, "please..." there was nothing but desperation in my voice. The effect he was having on me, my mind, and my body was simply crazy.

He gave me what I needed, rubbing me lovingly through my soaked lace.

"I can feel how wet you are, Debbie Doll," he smirked, keeping his gaze fixed on my face as I bit my lip and tried to suppress my moans at the delicious feeling of his finger against my clitoris.

"All for you, Ritchie bear," I panted, bucking my hips in the hope for any sort of better friction and my God, was it the right decision.

The thin fabric was drenched to its maximum with my love for Ritchie, and just as it couldn't hold my pleasure anymore, Ritchie tugged the waistband of my panties and pulled them down, lodging a finger inside my wet folds.

My eyes rolled back into my head and a loud moan slipped out of my lips as he felt my pulsing, squelching lips and moved his finger in and out of me.

"Oh Ritchie...!" I panted breathlessly, my walls contracting around his single digit as he bent down and wrapped my pussy lips into a delicious, passionate kiss. My hands found his hair, pulling him closer, concealing any sort of space between our bodies and my entire being shook in pleasure as he hit my g-spot.

"I-is this okay? Does this feel good?" He asked, his voice sending vibrations across my pussy and more pleasure straight to my core.

"It does, Ritchie... just... God... keep going... don't stop... please don't..." I could barely form a coherent sentence. I had never felt this wonderful in my entire life. My legs opened wide for him instinctively as the knot in my belly seemed close to uncoiling.

"Ritchie! I think I am about to -"

My stars went supernova as my orgasm came crashing over his finger and Ritchie breathed heavily against my cunt, pulling his lips from me so he could watch me cum so violently over him.

He retracted his finger out of me and licked the grool from it. My cheeks flushed a deep red but I moaned at the sight. He was perfect, and everything that he had just done to me was beyond anything I had ever felt before and anything that I had ever imagined sex would be.

But of course, we hadn't actually had sex yet.

"You taste so sweet, baby..." he moaned and I couldn't help but to giggle at his remark. He was so naughty. He drove me crazy.

"Will you let me please you today?" I asked Ritchie, "you know I've been dying to feel you inside of me!" I cried in an almost childish way, which caused my darling Ritchie to chuckle in response.

"No."

My eyes widened in horror. "What?" I wanted nothing more than for him to use me however he wanted. I wanted him to have an orgasm as amazing as the one he had given me, and I wanted to do anything I could to give him that.

I tried to reach in for his belt and feel his rock hard erection however he moved back and grinned at me. "Nuh-uh."

"What did I say? Tonight's going to be about you, my love, so I get to please you."

My heart overfilled with relief since I thought even tonight I would have to sleep a virgin.

"But to please you would please me." I would not give up. He shook his head and I tried a different approach. "You love me so much, don't you, Ritchie?" I cooed, wrapping my hands around his neck and gently nuzzling him. I would entice him into me, and let him use my body to give us both pleasure.

"For the thousandth time, yes. I love you. And for another thousand times, too... I love you."

We both smiled at each other lovingly before he planted a sweet kiss on my lips, gently pushing me back onto the bed and hovering over me once more.

He briefly knelt down to remove his trousers and his pants, shedding everything until he was naked. He had maintained eye contact with me all the time.

The air around me started to feel hot and heavy.

Daringly, I let my eyes slide lower until the rested on his masculinity. It was large, and stood up proudly against Ritch's stomach. It was an angry red, and was leaking from the tip. I'd never pleasured myself before, but two of Ritchie's fingers fit inside of me quite snugly, so I didn't know how I was supposed to fit his entire cock inside, or if it would even be possible. Ritchie slowly advanced on me, giving me the chance to stop him... but I couldn't do it. Not only because I wanted to please him and let him feel me, but because I had been waiting for this for so long. He rubbed the tip in and down my sopping lips, lubricating my slit further for a comfortable penetration and I moaned out shamelessly.

"This might hurt a little," he croaked out as he continued to rub the tip of his cock through my folds, holding down one of my thighs with one hand, ready to push into me any moment.

"Just do it, Ritchie. Fuck me!" I spoke bluntly. With that, he pressed forward and pushed the head right into my tight pussy. I let out an almost painful moan, feeling it scraping against the back of my throat as it came out.

"Does it hurt?" He asked seriously, stilling, "we - I can stop."

"No," I wheezed. "I'm alright. It will be alright. Just... just go on."

The first few minutes seemed to stretch on as my inner walls stretched to accommodate the size of him. He was huge, and every time he moved I could feel him and it felt like I was being torn apart from the inside... but it was also quite pleasant. I felt complete with him inside of me, and I also felt good because, from the blissed out look on his face and the sweat that was starting to form on his forehead, my Ritchie was also feeling how good our love was. He slipped in and out of me, holding me by my sides and holding me by my sides and rutting into me like some unfixed dog.

The pain was gone, replaced by complete pleasure and desire and pure lust.

It was driving me mad at just how good he was in making love.

Our bed - John's, really - rocked back and forth against the wall making an incredible amount of noise as Ritchie pumped all his love into me, groaning and whispering sweet things into my ear. I reckoned that our moans were about as loud as the bed frame against the wall.

"Oh, Ritchie.... ugh!", I almost screamed in pleasure, holding on to his back for support as he planked himself above me and shoved himself all the way inside of me. His moans were quiet but quick, and he gasped with every hump, his gorgeous blue eyes almost fluttering shut at the sensation of my sweet juices running around his deliciously thick shaft.

He caught my gaze and he instantly latched his lips onto my own. "I love you so much, baby..."

"I love you too, Ritchie.."

Beads of his hot sweat dripped onto my skin as the room filled with the sounds of our sweet, desperate love making. His St. Christopher necklace was hanging in the valley between my breasts, the metal sliding across my skin with every movement that he made.

His cock reached the deepest depths of my cunt when I felt something happening to his cock. It was swelling, and pulsing harshly. His thrusts stuttered.

"Ritchie, are you.. are you about to cum?" The thought of him filling me up almost brought me to my second orgasm of the evening.

"Yes, doll... ugh..." he groaned, thrusting into me one final time before his hot semen shot inside of me, hitting the back of my longing womb. My body sucked it up gratefully, my tight cunt milking his cock until it came to its own pleasure just a few moments after his own. Ritchie continued to fill me with his seed. As I finished for a second time, I closed my eyes. Ritchie kissed my lips and continued to fuck me shallowly through both of our orgasms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written with me by AllWeHearIsQueen (on Wattpad), and was edited by me.


	26. Chapter 26

_Six Days Later_

On the morning of my seventeenth birthday, Ritchie woke me with his head between my legs and his lips wrapped around my clitoris. It was blissful, and exactly what I had wanted to wake up to on my birthday.

Since we had gotten married nearly a week earlier, Ritchie and I had been insatiable; fucking like rabbits at all hours of the day and night and wherever we could. What had once been John and Micky's settee - but was now just Micky's - couldn't take us anymore, so we were going to go back to dad and Elsie's tonight, though we would have to act like we weren't married - which would be hard.

As soon as I had exploded over his tongue, the door opened and John and Micky ran into the room, George and Paul following after them, Cynthia coming in a few moments later with a cup of tea for Ritchie, me and herself.

"Hey," John said, frowning at his wife, "where's mine?"

"It's not your birthday." I smiled in thanks for the tea as she handed it to me.

"I'm your husband." John pointed out.

"I make you tea every morning, John, stop complaining." She went to sit in the empty armchair and smiled at Ritchie and me as she blew the steam from her own cup.

"Ringo makes Deb tea every morning. That's what a good -"  
"Husband does for their wife." She paused, sighing. "I'm pregnant, John, shouldn't _you_ be making _me_ tea?"  
Paul's eyes widened. "Wait..."

I groaned.

" _Cyn_ ," Ritchie rolled his eyes, "you just told them."  
"Oh, God!" She exclaimed at the two of us, "I'm so sorry -"  
"It's fine." I paused, "they had to find out at some point, right?"  
"You're _married_?" George exclaimed in disbelief, looking at me and then Ritchie and then back to me.

We both nodded. "Almost a week, now." He held up his left hand, displaying the tungsten wedding ring that we had picked out together. It was the cheapest ring in the store, but had been all that we could afford - Ritchie had vowed to buy me a diamond one when he and the rest of the lads were rich and famous and their band was top of the world.

I had no doubt that it would happen.

"Anyway," Cynthia said, "happy birthday."  
"Thank you." I smiled at them all, "thank you for being here - Cyn, you and John must have left so early to be here for when we woke up." I clutched Ritchie's shirt from the previous day more tightly around me. I had slept in it since I loved the comfort that the smell of him brought, but I was only wearing a pair of panties - which Ritchie had pulled aside when he had given me my birthday treat earlier that morning. My release was still between my legs, though Ritch had mostly cleaned me. It was turning slightly sticky and I wanted a wash, but I didn't voice that to anybody in the room.

Cynthia gestured to John to get her handbag. He sighed and did, handing it to her. She took out a small gift wrapped in brown paper. "This is from me." I unwrapped it. It was a gorgeous stationery set which must have cost a lot of her weekly allowance from her parents. I smiled.

"Thank you, Cynthia."  
"You can write to your dad when you're in London." She meant well, so I didn't tell her that dad and I weren't really on speaking terms at that moment.

"Thanks, Cyn." I repeated, "I love it." I did, truly.

And then Paul put a larger present in my lap; a box. "This is from us lads." He gestured to him, John and George. I opened it and saw a pair of shoes that I had been eyeing up just a few days before when I had been out shopping with Cynthia, "Cyn told us what ones to get, but we had to guess on your size, so if it's not right then we can return them -"

"No, they're the right size, thank you." I smiled at the three of them, "they're exactly the ones that I wanted, thank you." I turned to Cynthia, "thank you, Cynthia." She smiled again.

"I have a present for you, luv." Ritchie stood up from the settee, being careful to leave the blanket that we had been sharing wrapped around my legs. He was wearing his underwear, and he shot an apologetic look at Cynthia as he crossed the room and went out of the living room door. We could hear him rifling around in the cupboard in the hallway, and he returned just a few seconds later. He tucked himself back under the blanket and put one arm around my hips before he handed me my present. It was a small box. "For the love of my life." He said as I slid the lid off of the box and pulled back the layer of tissue paper.

My jaw dropped.

Inside the box was the most gorgeous little bracelet. It was gold, with dainty daisies every centimetre or so. It took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.

I turned my head to look at him, but he was staring at everybody else in the room. "Some privacy?" They all nodded and got up and left. He turned back to me, "do you like it, Deb?"

I nodded, kissing his lips softly before I pulled away to look at the bracelet again. "It's beautiful, Ritch. God, it must have cost a bomb. You didn't have to spend anything on me, y'know, you're present enough -"

He chuckled and looked into my eyes, "you're worth so much more than what I could spend on you in a lifetime." Ritch took the box from me, taking the bracelet out and then taking my left wrist and doing the clasp up. I held my wrist up to the light and saw how the bracelet shined in the mid-morning sun which was filtering in through the thin curtains of Micky's flat.

"It's gorgeous, Ritch, really. Thank you."  
"I know it's not what you were probably expecting; I would have liked to get you a ring, but -"  
"We have the rest of our lives for you to get me a ring." I told him softly, aware that the lads were probably right outside the door and listening in to everything that we were saying. "This is special."

"It's your first birthday as my wife." Ritchie kissed me again, "but we've got fifty-odd more, so get used to being treated." Ritch paused, "when we've made it to number one, Deb, I'm going to bring you home daisies every night -"  
I giggled, "daisies?" I echoed, "are they our flower?"  
He nodded, "they're my favourite." He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I nuzzled into the side of his hand, "and you remind me of a daisy."  
"Why?"

"Because you're perfect."

I blushed.

I loved him so much.


	27. Chapter 27

We went back to Elsie and dad's house that night for the first time since we had been married. Ritchie and I clutched at each other's hands until the very last moment, only letting go when the door handle turned and Elsie opened the door.

She beamed at us, "you're home!" She took Ritchie into her arms, much to his surprise, and then me. "Darling, your dad's been so worried about you!"  
I doubted that, but I bit my tongue as she led us inside and told us to go and get changed into some clean clothes for dinner. Ritchie and I had had to buy our outfits for the last seven days, so we had had clean clothes, but there was nothing quite like your own, was there?

We went upstairs to the room that we had always shared, but somehow it felt different.

Like it wasn't ours anymore.

"When are we moving to London?" I asked him quietly, looking at the single bed.

"A few days."  
My eyes widened. I hadn't expected that answer.

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

Ritch shrugged as he unbuttoned his shirt, "Brian's found us a little flat - Montagu Square, I think he said - it's got a spare bedroom so he's asked if we'd let one of the lads stay there for a bit until he finds them all a place, but he said we'd have it to ourselves for a week or so."

I threw my arms around his body and he caught me with a chuckle, his hands going to my arse and filling themselves with my cheeks. He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his middle, my core burning for him.

"Not now, doll," he kissed my lips harshly, making me want him even more. "There'll be plenty of time for this in our home."

I loved the idea of us having a place of our own.

"Kids! Dinner's ready!" Elsie called up the stairs, making the two of us groan. We weren't _kids_. We were two married adults shouldn't have been treated like children as we were - Ritchie especially wasn't a child - he was almost twenty-four!

Reluctantly, Ritchie put me down. He watched me undress, which I didn't mind, and then he helped me to do the button up on the back of the clean dress that I had chosen to wear. It was a pale pink, and one of my favourites.

"Do I look okay?" I asked as he changed his shirt. He looked at me and nodded, smiling.

"You look very pretty. Like a doll." I beamed, loving it when he called me a doll or his doll. It was a possessive thing that he did, and it sent thrills through my bones. "Come on," he walked past me, "let's go before they get suspicious." I followed him down the stairs, wishing that we could have held hands or been a real couple when were at home with our parents.

Dad was sat the table, and he was reading the day's newspaper. He looked up when we came into the room, "decided to come home, then?"  
Ritchie sat in the seat across from dad, leaving me to sit beside him. I didn't mind because I was sure that dad would never lay an actual hand on me - I was actually more worried for Ritchie's safety; his bruises and scratches from the last time he had seen my father had barely faded despite the almost-two weeks separation that they had had.

A lot had changed in those two weeks.

"We'll be gone again, soon." Ritchie paused. "We're moving."  
"Moving?" Elsie echoed, "is that to London? You mentioned it a few weeks ago, Ritchie, but I didn't know that it would be coming so soon -"  
"To London?" Dad echoed, glaring at me. "You're moving to _London_?"

I bit my lip and hesitated for several seconds before I nodded. "Yes. I'm going with Ritchie and his band - and John's wife, Cynthia."  
"John got married?" Elsie smiled as she put a plate of food in front of her son, "that's nice for him. He needed somebody to settle him down."  
 _John's not the only one who got married quickly_ , I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue again. I hated that we couldn't be ourselves at home - we had to be step siblings, not the two people who were in love.

"You could do with somebody to settle you down, too, Richard." Dad frowned at my husband, "all this flitting about, playing in pubs and clubs and then stealing my daughter away for -"

"I didn't _steal_ her, Harry." Ritchie put his fork down and looked at me. I widened my eyes, pleading with him to just stay quiet for this meal. Couldn't we have _one_ nice dinner together? "You abused her, so she didn't want to be around you anymore -"

" _Abused_?" Dad echoed, laughing, "you wouldn't even know the meaning of the word. You're a boy! You haven't seen abuse, yet, but I'll -"

"Dad!" I snapped, throwing my cutlery across the table. The four of us watched it clatter across the surface and then fall onto the floor. Ritchie's hand crept to my inner thigh, trying to calm me as best he could without saying anything and alerting our parents to our relationship and its new status. "If you ever lay so much as a finger on him again, then _I_ will be the one hurting _you_." I stood up and turned to Ritchie, "we're leaving. Now."

He nodded and stood up. He turned to his mother, "dinner was lovely - or it would have been if there wasn't some brute threatening to thump me." With our heads held high, we left the kitchen and went upstairs to pack the rest of our things up. 

We packed as much as we could into the suitcases that we had between us, and then we left the house forever... hopefully.


	28. Chapter 28

_Three Days Later_

Brian had let us borrow his car for the trip down to London. We loaded it up bright and early with all our suitcases and then set off for London before breakfast. The two of us were just so excited to start our lives together properly, and to have our own place to live.

We talked for the entire journey, stopping only once when we were about halfway for breakfast.

When we arrived at 34 Montagu Square, I cried. Ritchie chuckled as he wrapped his arms around me from the driver's seat, "what's wrong, love?" He asked.

"I just can't believe that we're here!" I cried, "and it's our _own_ house!"  
He chuckled again and got us out of the car, leading me up the front steps of the flat and opening the door using a key that Brian had given him on the ring with the car key the day before. He led me to the basement flat and put his hands over his eyes just before he pushed the door open with his foot.

"And here it is..." he took his hands from my eyes and I cried again.

It was perfect.

Fully furnished and full of plants and flowers. The living room was a pastel green and settee matched - there was even a small settee in the middle of the room.

"Brian hired interior designers so it would be perfect for us." Ritchie told me as he led me through the flat, which was as large as dad and Elsie's house. The kitchen was decorated in deep reds, the bathroom was a hue of blues... but it was our bedroom that I loved the most.

There was a running theme; daisies.

The walls were decorated in hand-painted daisies, our duvet cover was a yellow as bright as the middle of a daisy and there was a vase of daisies on the chest of drawers to the side of the door.

"Do you like it?" He asked me. I nodded, wiping away more tears. "Stop crying, doll, you'll set me off." My Ritchie was very soft; he cried when he was hurt or happy, too, though he would never admit it to anybody - I had had to work it out myself, in fact.

Ritchie took my hands and led me over to the bed. He sat down and then pulled me into his lap. I straddled him and put my arms around his neck. Ritchie kissed my tears away and then kissed my lips.

"This is perfect," I told him quietly, "Ritchie, everything's perfect." He was looking at my lips through his long eyelashes. I loved him like this; it was when he was at his most vulnerable. I pressed my mouth against his, opening my lips and letting him push his tongue inside.

"You're perfect," he told me as he laid back, bringing me down with him. We continued to kiss, but it grew more passionate gradually. I knew what we were about to be in for, and he did, too. Since our wedding, we had made love at least once a day, and today was to be no different. I began to grind my soaking core against the growing tent in his trousers, grateful that the material was riding up my thighs so the friction between us could increase and I could get more pleasure. "Oh God, baby, don't stop doing that!" He bucked his hips upwards and I gasped. He felt incredible. I needed him inside of me as soon as possible. I removed my arms from around his neck and moved them between us, using my hands to undo his trousers and take his rock hard erection from the confines of his underwear. I stroked it with one small, dainty hand and he moaned again. "You're incredible..."

I was in too much of a hurry to feel him to get undressed. Instead, I pulled my panties to the side and aligned the head of his leaking cock to my entrance.

I slid down onto him, and we both moaned out in delight and pleasure.

This position was new, we hadn't tried it before, but I already knew that it would become a regular. He was going so much deeper, and as he bucked his hips in and out of my tight cunt, I could feel my pleasure building. Ritchie was incredible at making love but I had never cum so quickly before.

"That's it, Deb!" He cried out as his cock stuttered in and out, his thrusts becoming sloppy. My legs felt like they were about to give out and my stomach felt hot and tight. We fucked each other through our orgasms, spilling our pleasure over the other. I would never grow tired of the feeling which came from my husband filling me up; it was incredible. I collapsed onto his chest, his flaccid cock still inside of my spent hole. He chuckled as he stroked my blonde hair. "God," he breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly but shallowly with my weight on it, "I really love you. You're like my wettest dream."  
I giggled quietly as I felt my eyelids flutter closed briefly.

"Go to sleep, doll," he said quietly, stroking my hair more softly. I yawned, "I'll still be here when you wake up."

I fell asleep on top of him, and it was perfect.


	29. Chapter 29

"Good morning, my love." Ritchie breathed as he softly kissed me awake. I smiled. We had been living in our flat for six days, and it had been blissful - but George was moving in with us today - Brian had promised that it would be for as short a time as possible, so we didn't mind too much.

"Good morning, my love." I replied, "did you sleep okay?"  
He nodded. "Do you want some breakfast?" I frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not hungry." I furrowed my eyebrows, "I'm always hungry first thing in the morning."

He shrugged, "maybe you're still full from last night." Ritchie smirked, knowing full well that the only thing I had ingested yesterday evening was his sweet release when he had cum in my mouth.

"I don't know." I got out of bed, pulling on yesterday's underwear from the floor to cross the room and grab the clothes that I was planning to wear that day, "I feel odd. Like I've got a stomach ache, but I don't feel ill at all. Y'know?" I looked back at him to see if he was nodding.

Ritchie was shaking his head.

"No, Deb. Are you alright?"  
I didn't know, but I didn't want to worry him. "I'm fine." I tried to sound as confident as possible so he wouldn't question it any further. "No breakfast, thanks." He nodded and got out of bed, pulling on the underwear that he had been wearing the previous day and going into the kitchen to fix himself some food.

I went into the bathroom and stripped down, jumping straight into the shower.

I stood under the hot spray of water for several minutes, just taking the time to wake up properly and engage myself. I thought about everything that I had to do that day - which, other than getting the spare room ready for George and making dinner for all of us - was nothing.

I had no hobbies, I had no job, I had no friends in the city at the moment and I didn't know the area so I didn't want to venture out.

I would never tell Ritchie, but I actually missed Liverpool. Yes, I loved London because of how different it was compared to back home, but I missed the familiarity of the Liver Building on the shore of the Mersey, the buzz of the road outside of Micky and John's flat, and even the smog which always seemed thickest in the mornings.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Yeah?" I called, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water.

"I made you a cuppa - do you want me to bring it in?" It was Ritchie, of course.

He was so sweet, but I felt so irritable at the moment that I snapped at him, which I felt awful for as soon as I had done it, "I'm in the shower! Can't I have five minutes of peace!?"

I heard him shuffling away.

I started to cry.

Why had I spoken to him like that? Now I had made him feel as bad as I did.

I sighed and turned off the water, getting out of the shower and wrapping a fluffy towel around my body. I tied it and then brushed my teeth before I got dressed and left the bathroom.

Ritchie was sitting on the settee with his hands wrapped around a mug of tea. He didn't look up at me when I came in. I felt terrible, my heart sunk even further in my chest when I approached him and saw tear marks down his cheeks. I was a terrible person for making my husband cry.

"I'm sorry, Ritch," I said softly as I sat down beside him, gingerly reaching out and taking one of his hands in mine, "I shouldn't have said that. I just feel quite stressed today, and I guess it's rubbing off..."

"Are you stressed because George is moving in with us?" Ritchie asked, looking up at me now, his usually bright blue eyes seemed dimmed with sadness. "Because if it's a problem, I'm sure John and Cynthia wouldn't mind if he stayed with -"

"It's not about George." I stated simply. I looked at him quickly, worrying that my sharp response would offend him again. "And you haven't done anything wrong. I don't know what it is, I just... feel weird. I'm hungry, but the very thought of food - even drinking - makes me feel sick."

Ritchie furrowed his eyebrows, thinking for a few seconds before he brought my hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles and then rested both of our hands in his lap. "Do you want to see a doctor?"

I shook my head, "it's only this morning. It might even be gone by the end of the day, you never know. I'll wait it out."

He nodded, "okay, well if you change your mind..."

"I'll let you know." I promised.


	30. Chapter 30

We heard a car pull up outside of the flat, and the familiar sound of a Scouse drawl. There was only one person who it could be. Ritchie was in the bath, and I had just started on dinner. It was early evening, and I had spent all day getting George's room ready. I'd washed and dried his bed sheets, putting them back on the bed, I'd lit a fragrant candle so the room smelt nice and I'd also made sure that everything was perfect.

I was exhausted.

I checked out of the window to make it sure it was George, and indeed it was. I went to the bathroom door and knocked just once, slowly pushing it open. Ritchie looked up at me as he heard the door creak, "hello, my love," he smiled at me, "George is outside. Did you want to get out?"

"Do you mind if I finish up here, first?" Ritchie asked, gesturing to the water. It was quite steamy in the bathroom since there wasn't a window in there.

I shook my head, "of course not -" the doorbell rang. "That'll be Geo. I'll help him with his bags -" Ritchie got out of the bath. "What're you doing?"  
"I can't have my wife carrying in my best mate's bags." Ritchie wrapped a towel around his waist and pulled the plug on the bath before he gestured for me to lead the way to the front door.

We left our flat briefly to open the main door of the building for George. He grinned at us both, though furrowed his thick eyebrows at Ritchie's dripping figure standing in the doorway. "I couldn't have my wife getting your bags, Geo!" Ritchie took one of George's suitcases and took it into our flat. I took a step back so George could get by me with his other two cases, but he put them down. He kissed my cheek.

"You look lovely, Deb." I blushed, "very bright - London's done wonders for you already, hasn't it?"  
I hadn't even left the flat - how could London have done anything for me? Other than the four walls of our new home, I had seen nothing of the surrounding city. I didn't want to explore by myself, so I was just waiting for Ritchie to ask me out for the day with him.

"Thanks, George." I paused as he grabbed his bags and let me lead the way back to the flat, "good trip?"  
He nodded, "was alright, yeah. Sat next to a proper clobber on the train, though..." he continued to drone on about the idiot beside him on the train, but as soon as he got into the living room of our flat, his jaw dropped. His eyes flew around the room. "This place is nicer than anywhere back home!"  
Ritchie was standing in the middle of the room, now in a pair of trousers though his chest was still bare, his golden St Christopher necklace glistening in the warm light of the fading afternoon.

I loved seeing him like that: so carefree. I'd never seen him like it before we had moved to London, but now he seemed to be like it at any and all times of the day. It was perfect.

"Your room is first door on the left, George," I told him, "ours is right across and the bathroom is next door to yours. We've got our own bathroom, so don't worry if you leave yours a little messy." Our en suite bathroom was bigger than George's, so there was never a situation where either Ritchie or me would have to use his instead of our own.

"Thanks, Starrs." George grinned at the two of us, "you're both gear, letting me stay here and all. Let me know if I can do anything to pay you back -"

"No need." Ritchie promised, but then he looked at me with a slightly teasing look on his face, "though I think Deb might appreciate a friend to go shopping with -"

"Any time." George promised, smiling at me.

I smiled back, clapping my hands once as a finality. "Right, well, dinner's on. It's steak pie and mash tonight, George, but I know that's one of your favourites."

"Can't beat it." George agreed. "Do I have enough time to get myself sorted before then, or not?"  
"About twenty minutes, I'd say." I paused, "but I can always leave yours in the oven so it stays warm if you want it later?"  
"I'll eat whenever you two do," he paused, "I'm not one to make things difficult." George paused again, "just let me know."

Ritchie and I both nodded.

"Can I get you a drink before dinner?" I wasn't going to be his maid all of the time, but I liked knowing that Ritchie, and indeed anybody who visited the house, were properly fed and watered - I'd been doing it at John and Micky's even before Ritch and I had stayed there as newly weds.

"If you could put the kettle on, that'd be swell." I nodded and went into the kitchen to do just that.

I heard Ritch talking to George, "she's been a bit odd all day."

"Odd?" George echoed.

Ritchie hummed in reply. "She hasn't eaten anything, and has barely drunk, too. She snapped at me this morning which isn't like her, and she tossed and turned all night - I didn't sleep a wink."  
I could almost picture George furrowing his eyebrows as he went deep into thought. "Maybe she's got too much energy."

"Maybe." Ritchie didn't sound convinced.

"Or maybe she's got something on her mind?" George paused, "have you tried talking to her about it?"  
I imagined Ritchie shrugging, "she said it was nothing, earlier."  
"Maybe she needs someone else to talk to - John and Cyn'll be down day after tomorrow - Cyn could do it?"

As if _I_ was a chore.

I set about making George's tea the way I knew that he liked it, keeping a careful ear out for the rest of their conversation.

"Cyn makes her nervous."  
"Why?"  
"Because on our wedding day, she was saying all sorts of things about John - saying he only married her because of the baby."

"I thought that was why you married Deb."

My eyes widened.

"No, I married her because I loved her." My heart softened more for my husband. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take him into my arms... but I couldn't.

I kept listening.

"So she's not pregnant?" George asked in surprise.

I stirred his tea faster. Really, I wanted to give him a slap, but I couldn't give away that I was eavesdropping.

"Of course she's not." Ritchie paused, "we've only been married two weeks, and I never touched her before then."  
 _Liar_.

George chuckled, "nothing like John, then."

"No." Ritchie agreed. He sighed, "I'll ask Cynthia to have a chat with Debbie, but I just don't know what I can do. I hate thinking about her being unhappy."  
I loved my husband.

He was perfect.

"I'm sure she'll be fine."

A few seconds later, Ritchie came into the kitchen. "You alright, doll?" I chucked the teabag into the bin behind me and then smiled at him, feigning my innocent.

"Yeah."

"You sure...?" He asked, "you don't sound alright. Are you feeling hungry yet?"  
 _Don't snap. Don't snap. Don't snap. He's just worried about you._

"No," I replied, "I feel a bit ill, actually." I paused, "maybe I will go to the doctor."  
"Tomorrow?"  
I shook my head, "in a few days if it hasn't cleared up." I hated bothering people if I didn't need to, and I hated talking about myself - if I didn't _need_ to see the doctor then I wouldn't go. "Stop fussing." I kissed his lips softly, holding George's tea in one hand as I put my other hand to my beautiful husband's cheek and held him close to me, "I'm fine."

Ritchie sighed, "will you try and eat dinner with us tonight?"  
I shook my head, "I'll be fine if I don't eat today, Ritch, but I promise I will try some cornflakes tomorrow. Does that sound okay?"  
He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. I knew that he wanted to object, but that he didn't want to make me not want to eat even less than I did already.

Eventually, he nodded.

"Okay, yeah... but if you get hungry in the night then wake me up, okay?"  
I doubted that I would be, but I nodded anyway.

"Okay."


	31. Chapter 31

_Two Days Later_

"Come on, love," Ritchie said as he pushed a slice of buttered toast across the table to me, "you haven't eaten anything. You must be starving."  
I _was_ hungry, but the mere thought of putting anything in my mouth made my feel faint. In fact, nothing had passed my lips since two days before, the day that I had shouted at Ritchie from the shower.

I shook my head, "I'm fine." I pushed the plate back. He'd tried to give me the other half of the toast that he'd made for himself. He'd tried to feed me off of his plate since yesterday lunchtime, even going so far as to sit me on his knee and hover the fork with food on it in front of my mouth.  
"Come on, love," Ritchie repeated, pushing the plate across the table to me once more. "Just one bite. It's worrying me that you haven't eaten anything. You'll keel over."  
"I'm not hungry." I got up and left the table, going to George's room. I knocked on the door, "it's me," I said, "can I come in?"  
The door opened and George sighed. "Still not eating?"  
"I'm just I can't stop thinking about being sick, George." He let me into his room. I went and sat on the end of his bed and cried. I hated how worried Ritchie was about me, and I hated making him feel that way. I hated that I hadn't eaten, because I usually had a hearty appetite.

But most of all, I hated that they'd called _Cynthia_ in to talk to me... not because I didn't like her, but because I felt that there was nothing wrong with me. I just couldn't eat. It would pass... eventually.

George closed his bedroom door and then walked over, sitting down beside me.

"Are you excited for today?" He asked me, nudging my shoulder with his and changing the subject. "I bet you're gonna have a great time."

I shrugged. "Not really in the mood to walk around all day. I'd rather be here doing something - I've got some washing to do, actually, maybe I'll do that -"

" _No_ ," George said pointedly, "you have to get out. Ringo said you haven't left since you got here."  
"I don't want to leave." I frowned, "I love my home."  
"Yeah, it's nice," he agreed, "but you need to go out for a bit. My mum always says that enough fresh air will cure a broken arm."

"She's joking."

"I know that," George replied in a tone that implied his answer should have been obvious, "but she's right. Whenever I feel like I'm gonna boke, I just go out for a walk - usually clears it all right up."  
"Cynthia's always so chirpy." I sighed, "she's always smiling. I don't want to smile and dance around all the time, George. I don't feel well - I want to be in bed and go to sleep." I paused, "today's the first time that you and Ritch are going into the studio, it was supposed to be my chance."  
"We've got a few sessions booked this week," George reminded me, "go out with Cyn today and spend tomorrow in bed, instead."

I sighed again. George was right, of course.

I nodded, "alright... but you have to tell Ritch that I ate something."  
"What?" George groaned, "don't drag me into this -"  
"Just a biscuit or two, George." I pleaded, "just say you caught me eating your stash or something -"  
"I don't have a stash." He frowned. He was such a bad liar.

"Don't lie, I found it. I must say, using an old cereal box is a golden idea... your mum's, aren't they?"

He nodded, sighing. "My mum makes the best chocolate biscuits."  
I nodded in agreement. She most certainly did. "Ask her for the recipe and I'll make them for you."  
"You would?"  
I nodded again, " _if_ you tell Ritchie that you caught me eating them."  
George couldn't turn down my bargain, so he replied, "alright, fine."

I grinned, "knew I could count on you, Geo." I got up and flounced over to the door, "have a good day, yeah?"

"And you -"  
"And don't let him worry, promise?"  
George hummed in reply. "You've been eating my biscuits... though if I don't see you eating an actual meal soon then I'll actually shove them down your throat, mum's or not."

I chuckled and left the room without another word.

"You and George have a good chat?" Ritchie looked up from his newspaper as I went back into the kitchen. I sat in the seat beside him.

"Don't be like that, Ritchie bear." I pouted, taking his half-empty mug of tea and taking a few sips from it before I put it down again, feeling queasy already. "We're just mates."  
He frowned, "I know, but I feel like you talk to him more than me."  
"That's not true." I replied, "I talk to you loads."  
"Only when we're having sex."

I blushed a furious red.

"Do you _mind_?" I hissed at him, glancing over my shoulder to see if George had emerged from his room yet.

"Not at all." Ritch closed the paper and set it on the table, resting his arms on it and clasping his hands together as he sat forward and looked at me. "I only worry about you."  
"I know." I promised him, taking each of his hands in mine. "I just feel a bit odd the last few days... but I've been eating a couple of George's biscuits - the ones that his mum made for him."

"He'll scalp you." Ritchie teased, chuckling.

I giggled but shook my head, "I cleared it with him. He's going to get his mother's recipe so I can make him some more." I paused, "so you can stop worrying."  
"A few biscuits from Louise Harrison aren't going to fill you up -"  
"Well they're better than nothing." I felt terrible for lying to him, but I didn't want him worrying about me anymore than he had already. "Do you know when Cyn's going to be here?"  
Ritch shook his head, "John said he'd drop her down on his way to the studio."  
"John can't drive -"  
"He hired a driver."  
"Where did he get the money to do that?" I asked in surprise.

Ritchie shrugged, "with his advance, I guess."

"What did you do with your advance?" This was the first that I was hearing of any such payment.

"I put it down on a mortgage for this place." He gestured around the flat before rejoining our hands. "I paid for the interior decorators. I -"  
"You don't have to say anymore." I pulled my hands away from his and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor as I pushed it back. "I get it. You pay for everything and I shouldn't question you."  
I wanted the day to end already, and it was barely eleven o'clock.

I went back into the bedroom and climbed back in bed.


	32. Chapter 32

I stirred, and the first person that I saw was Cynthia. She was smiling, hovering over me with a steaming cup of tea.

It smelt awful.

I frowned, taking several seconds to compose myself before I slowly sat up. "Hi Cyn," I yawned, "did I fall asleep?"  
She nodded, "Ringo said that he just left you to it because you haven't been sleeping the last few nights."

I replied, "it's nothing serious."  
"He said you haven't been eating."

"I ate a few of George's biscuits -"  
"You and I both know that that is a lie, Deb," she paused, "don't lie to me."

I sighed, "I just don't want him to worry."  
"So eat something, then." Cynthia set the tea down on my bedside table and then sat on the bed in front of my legs. "I know how you feel, because I didn't want to eat just before I found out I was pregnant."  
I sighed again, "I'm starving but every time I even try to eat something, it just comes right back up again - and sometimes I don't even get as far as eating it. Yesterday, I was thinking about the cake that my mum made for my ninth birthday, and I brought up the bile in my stomach."  
Cyn wrinkled her nose, "nice..." she sighed, "I don't know what to do about you, but I do think that some air would help. Jump in the shower, get dressed and then we'll go, yeah?"  
I nodded. Going out _did_ sound nice.

When I came into the kitchen an hour later with my hair washed and clean clothes on, Cynthia was sitting at the table, reading through the paper that Ritchie had left on the table. I sat beside her, where Ritch had been sitting earlier, and I picked up his piece of toast. It was stone cold and the butter on it had solidified, but I was starving.

My eyes darted over to Cynthia, who was peaking at me over the top of the newspaper, trying to make it not obvious that she was watching me.

Tentatively, I nibbled on the corner of the toast.

Cynthia's eyes widened.

It took less than three seconds for me to feel my stomach churning after I had swallowed my first bite of toast. "You've gone green!" She exclaimed in horror as I got up and darted to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet and hurling my guts up and into the toilet bowl. I heard her walking behind me. I looked over my shoulder briefly before I vomited again. She was holding a glass of water with a few cubes of ice in it.

It looked refreshingly delicious.

When I was finished, I took it from her with a small smile. She sunk down onto the floor beside me, holding her barely swollen stomach.

"Are you and Ringo active?" She asked quietly, looking down at the floor.

"We don't do much exercise." I told her, "I think Ritch wanted to start running or something, I'm not sure." It was a weird question, but I gave her my honest answer.

She laughed sweetly, "no, I mean, do you two have _sex_?"  
I blushed.

"Isn't that what married couples do?"

Was I doing everything wrong? Did Cynthia know something that I didn't?

She nodded, humming quietly for a few seconds before she asked, "have you been, um, using protection?"

"Protection?" I echoed. "For what?"  
"So you don't end up like me." She paused her movements, her hand now still over where her baby was growing.

I cocked my head at her as I wondered what she meant, but then it all became clear. I sat up straighter and returned my head to its upright position.

"There's protection for that?"  
She nodded.

"Have you been using it?"  
I shook my head, "I don't think so. Ritchie's never mentioned it."

"Do you want a baby?"  
"We haven't spoken about it." We hadn't even really entertained the idea of children - not even discussed it since the night that Ritchie had had that fight with the man who had touched me at the Cavern.

"Debbie," Cynthia said in a thoughtful, quiet tone, "I think that you might be pregnant..."

I thought about it. I had been feeling weird for the last few days; like there was something alien inside of me - but that could have just been my mind playing tricks on me. I hadn't eaten, I had barely drunk, I hadn't been sleeping and I had had next to no energy. My breasts had been so sore that I had asked Ritchie not to touch them yesterday when we had made love last.

And my monthlies were late.  
"Oh God..." I turned back to the toilet bowl, chucking up again at the thought of being a mother in just a few months.

I was so nervous already and it hadn't even been confirmed to me.

Why had it never occurred to me before now that I might be pregnant?

 _Your mum didn't get a chance to explain it to you before she died_.

How was I going to be a mum when my own was dead? I had no role model; nobody to consult when my baby wouldn't go through the night, or the pregnancy was tough. I had nobody to ask for parenting advice when my child was unhappy at school -

"You should see a doctor," Cynthia said, "if you think that there's even a small chance..."

"It's possible." I admitted after several seconds of silence between us as I thought through every possible thing that could go wrong for me if I _was_ pregnant.

What if Ritchie didn't _want_ a baby? He had said that he did want one with me before, but what if he hadn't meant for one so soon? What if this ended our marriage? What if this -

"Are you happy about that?"  
I didn't know, honestly.

I had always wanted to be a mother, but now that it might actually be happening, I felt very scared.

My silence must have been answer enough for her, because she stood up and dusted herself down. "I'll ring the doctor, you get yourself cleaned up. We'll spend the day here instead, okay?"  
I nodded, grateful that we weren't going and could instead spend the day indoors. I wanted to talk to her about the possibility of me being pregnant and what I'd have to do if I was. If I was indeed having a baby, then I was happy that I would have Cynthia by my side, because she was about two months pregnant already and had gone through the beginnings of a pregnancy and could help me.

When Cynthia came back, she smiled at me. "You've got more colour in your face." All I had done was sip at the water some more and brush my teeth. "I booked the appointment for nine tomorrow morning. Shall we ring the studio and see if Ringo'll take you?"  
"Do I have to tell him?"  
She shook her head, "you don't have to do anything... though I actually think he'd be quite pleased to find out that he's going to be a father."  
"I don't want to tell him if it isn't true." I frowned, "what do I tell him is the reason for needing to go to the doctor?"

She shrugged, "just be vague. Say it's a bug or something. Men don't like talking about female problems, so you could also say it's something like that."  
I nodded and went over to the phone, dialling the number that George had scrawled out for me the previous day.

I bit my lip nervously as I waited for the operator to put me through to the studio. "Hello?" A female voice answered, "EMI studios at Abbey Road London, you're through to Sarah, how can I help you today?"  
"Um, hello..." I twisted the phone cord around my finger, "I need to talk to my husband."

"And is he a recording artist here or an employee?"

"A recording artist," I paused, "he's the drummer in _The Beatles_? Ringo Starr?"  
I hated referring to him like that because it made me feel that he wasn't mine anymore - when he was Ringo, it was like belonged to everybody else - but as Ritchie, he was mine.

"Ah yes," Sarah said, "I'm putting you through to their switchboard now, their record producer should pick up."  
Several seconds later, a male voice that I didn't recognise asked, "hello?"  
"Hello? I'm looking to speak with my husband, Ringo?"

"Oh, you must be Deb." The man answered cheerfully, "you're all he ever talks about. I'll pull him out, now. I'm George Martin, by the way."

"Nice to meet you." The line went dead for a minute or so and then I heard Ritchie's voice.

"Doll?" He asked in a slightly worried tone, "are you okay?"  
"I'm fine, Ritchie," I promised him, my heart fluttering as I realised that I was withholding the information that I might be pregnant from him. Was that a good thing to do? I didn't know. "Cyn's here -"  
"I know, I let her in." He paused, "have you eaten anything?"

"I had a bit of the toast you left out this morning," I paused, "threw it right back up, but it's the thought that counts, right?" He chuckled at my feeble attempt at humour. "Anyway, Cyn's booked an appointment with the doctor for me at nine tomorrow morning. I was wondering if you'd be able to take me?" I quickly added, "if you're not with the lads recording, that is."

"No, we don't start that early." He paused, "I'll take you, no problem." Ritchie paused for a few more seconds before I could hear Paul in the background calling out to him to rejoin the band, "I have to go, doll. We can talk about this when I get home tonight, right?"

I hummed in reply, "of course, it's nothing serious."

 _Just a lifelong commitment if I_ am _pregnant._

"I love you."  
"I love you too, Ritchie." And then the line went dead and I turned to Cyn, who had been sitting on the settee beside me whilst I talked. I put the phone back down on the hook. "He said that's fine."

Cyn grinned, "great."


	33. Chapter 33

It was almost surreal to me that the first time I would be venturing outside of the flat since we had moved in would be to go to an appointment with the doctor where I would find out if I was pregnant or not.

I didn't know how to feel about anything.

Ritchie was still fussing about me not eating and barely drinking, George was worrying about Ritchie worrying about me and he was stressing me out unintentionally. Cynthia had phoned to wish me luck for the appointment, and on top of all that that, I had the worry of what would happen if I wasn't pregnant - did that then mean that I had a serious illness? And if I was pregnant, then I was already a horrible mother because I'd practically been starving myself and my baby for almost a week.

"Stop fussing." I had screwed my skirt up and it was now entirely creased. He put a hand over my clenching fist and looked at me. Our eyes met and I took a few deep breaths, losing myself in the calming blue of his gaze. "It's all going to be fine. You'll probably get some medicine and be on your way. I bet you're in there less than ten minutes."

His fingers moved up my wrist a little to play with the daisies on my bracelet.

"I just get nervous around doctors." I told him, "the last time I had to go near one was with my mum."  
Ritchie continued look at the road ahead of us, but I could tell that he really wanted to look at me, hold me and comfort me properly. But he couldn't, because he had to focus on the road.

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

I shook my head, "no, I can cope, I just... I just worry."  
"You shouldn't." He risked looking at me for a few seconds. I returned his smile, "you're going to be fine. Nothing to worry about at all."

"Good morning, Mrs Starkey." The doctor smiled at me as soon as I walked into his examination room, "have you had a nice morning?"  
I shook my head, "not really - my husband and his friend are worried because I haven't been eating, and they're pressuring me to do so."  
"Oh," the doctor replied, "do you feel pressured to do other things for them?"

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, "they're nothing like that!" I blushed, "it's just that they worry about me."  
"Of course they do." The doctor paused, "lay back, Mrs Starkey." I did as I had been told, lying on my back on the examination table. "So, you think that you're pregnant?" I nodded, watching as he washed his hands and then pulled on some rubber gloves. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, my friend is a few months, and a lot of the things that I have been experiencing for the last week or so are what she experienced before she found out that she was having her baby."

"And what answer do you want?" The doctor pulled over a very basic scanning kit, setting it up in double time and asking me to pull my top up to the bottom of my breasts so he could scan inside of my stomach.

"I don't know."  
"Have you and your husband talked about children?"  
"We've been married a few weeks." I told the doctor, "we've barely talked about anything."  
"Have you been together very long?" The doctor squeezed some gel on my stomach and then turned on the monitor.

"A month and a bit, I think."

"A very fast-moving relationship, then." The doctor raised one eyebrow at me, "you two must really love each other." He was trying to put me at ease, and I was grateful for it.

I nodded, smiling as memories of Ritchie and him and me rushed through my mind. "We do."

And that was when I realised that yes, I wanted a positive pregnancy test. I wanted to be a mother, and I wanted the father to be my darling Ritchie.

I knew that he would be happy if I was pregnant. We loved each other, and we wanted a baby together. Now was our time.  
"Well, Mrs Starkey, this little blob on the screen," the doctor pointed to the image, "is your baby. Congratulations, you're going to be a mother."

I walked out to the car feeling elated, a little picture of our baby now enclosed in my purse. I got into the car and Ritchie put his newspaper in the backseat. He smiled at me, "did it go okay?"  
I nodded, beaming.

"Is everything okay?" He furrowed his brows at me. I knew that I was acting weirdly for somebody who had just come out of the doctors surgery, but I couldn't help it. I had just had the best news of my life.

"Everything's perfect."  
"Okay..." he trailed off, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car, "are you ill, or...?" I looked at him. Ritchie turned the key again and killed the engine. "What is it?" He asked in a worried tone of voice.

"Ritch," I swallowed, "I'm pregnant."

"P-pregnant?" It had taken him five seconds to formulate that single word, and it had seemed like the longest five seconds of my life. I nodded. "I'm going to be a dad?" I nodded again. "W-when?"

"The doctor said that I'm about two weeks - he said that the baby was so tiny that I wouldn't have even noticed for a few more weeks if it wasn't for the nausea and moodiness - oh, and my breasts are killing me, but that usually happens during my monthlies."

He was beaming. His eyes were wide, and he was practically thrumming with excitement.

"We're going to have a baby?" He asked in disbelief as he reached forward for me with both hands. He rested his large, drummer's hands on either side of my stomach and just held them there for a few seconds.

I looked down at his hands and felt tears coming to my eyes.

I loved him so much, and I loved his reaction.

"Ritch," I said softly, stroking his hair with one hand, "I don't think you'll be able to feel it kick, yet?"  
"It's going to kick?" He asked excitedly. I chuckled, nodding.

"Eventually."  
"When?"  
"I don't know." I told him honestly, "but soon, hopefully." I paused, "I want to feel it - it doesn't feel real at the moment."

"I wish it could come now." He complained.

I giggled and took my purse out of my bag, opening it and taking the little image of our child from inside of it. I held it up for him to see.

"This is ours." I told him.

"That's...?" he took it from me and just held it in front of his eyes, a mere two inches between the card that the picture was printed on and his eyes.

"That's our baby." I pointed to one part of it, "but it's so small that it almost doesn't exist, yet."  
"Oh, it exists." Ritchie was crying. I wiped his tears away and smiled, throwing my arms around him. "We're gonna be mummy and daddy."


	34. Chapter 34

Ritchie sped to John and Cynthia's flat with one of his hands on the wheel and the other on my nonexistent stomach the entire way, removing his hand from me only when he had to change gears. The two of us had wide smiles on our faces, unable to believe how lucky we were.

He pulled up outside and got out of the car. Before I could even put on foot on the ground, Ritchie was there with his hand out. He helped me out of the car. I giggled at him.  
"Are you okay, my love?" He asked, putting an arm around my hips as he supported my weight up the stairs to John and Cyn's flat.

"I'm fine, Ritchie," I promised him, "you don't have to do this, y'know. I can walk."  
"You're pregnant!" He reminded me.

"I know, I know," I replied, "but I can walk up a flight of stairs without your help."

"I want to make sure you don't fall. You and the baby might hurt yourselves."  
I removed his arm from around my hips, instead lacing our hands together. I beamed at him, and he at me. From the outside, we must have looked like a lovesick couple - well, we were.

"I just want you to be careful."  
"I will be," I assured him, "you can help me up stairs and out of the car when I'm about six months, okay?" I had no idea how big I would be, then, but I was sure that I could cope with him helping me at that point.

We had reached John and Cyn's front door. I knocked on it, stepping forward briefly to do so but then stepping back to stand in line with my darling.

Cynthia opened it, and she took one look at us and then grinned. "No way!" She practically jumped up and down, squealing as I caught her movements and began to do the same.  
"Yes!" She hugged me tightly.

"I'm so happy for you both!"  
"Cynthia!" John called out for her from inside the flat, "who is it!?"  
"It's Ringo and Debbie!" She called back over her shoulder.

"Well let them in!" John shouted, "you're letting the heat out!"

Her big grin faded and she sighed, "come in. They're in the front room."  
"They?" I echoed, letting Ritchie lead me into the flat.

"George and Paul are here, too." We went into the living room, clutching each other tightly. Ritchie went over to the only spare seat in the room and then pulled me into his lap, knotting his arms around my middle.

The three lads were watching us, curious looks on their faces.

Cynthia wasn't in the room - she'd probably gone to make us some tea. She was very good at playing hostess, even when it wasn't her house!  
"We have some news." Ritchie said, looking at the three lads.

"Well don't leave us hanging, lad." John practically snapped, "we're waiting."

Ritchie nudged me subtly, a silent gesture for me to tell them.

I opened my mouth, but John got in there first, "Cyn!"

"Yeah?" She called from the kitchen.

"Make 'us some beans on toast!" He looked at the rest of us, "anyone want anything?"  
We all shook our heads, too in shock at how John spoke to the fair Cynthia, who would never deny him anything because of how much she loved him... but he didn't even seem to _like_ her. He spoke to her like she was nothing more than his own personal maid.

 _Is that how husbands are supposed to talk to their wives?_ I wondered. _Had I gotten off lucky with Ritchie?_

I would never ask Cynthia in case I offended her. I knew that despite his imperfections and initial reluctance to marry her, she was happy with John - though I wasn't sure if I could say the same for him.

"Anyway..." Ritchie brought all of our attentions back into the room, "we have some news." He waited for me to tell them, but I shook my head slightly at him, insisting that he did it. Our eyes locked and we beamed at each other as he said it out loud again, "I'm going to be a dad."

"My dad?" Paul asked.

We all turned to look at Paul, confused looks on our faces and furrowed eyebrows.

"No...?" Ritchie answered slowly.

I laughed, because Paul's reaction had been adorable, and Ritchie's confusion had been so purely him that it was perfect.

"So you're up the duff, then?" John asked in a slightly teasing tone. He looked at Ritchie, "well done, lad, I knew it wouldn't take you long."

"I thought that you got married because you _were_ pregnant." George said.

"Yes," I bit my lip, "you've said. Thank you for that, George."  
"Is that why you haven't been eating?" He asked.

I nodded, "the doctor said that it was just a symptom. He gave me a prescription for some medicine that should help with that."

"That's good." George grinned, his fangs sliding past his top lip. "I'm going to have to move out now, aren't I? You're going to need my room for the baby." He was teasing us, of course, but there was a hint of worry behind his tone.  
We all laughed, "of course not, Georgie," I cooed at him, "you're our baby, too."  
John snorted.

Ritch chuckled, "we've parented you -"  
"For three days." George finished, "and you haven't _parented_ me -"  
"Relax, George!" I laughed, "we were joking!"

"Oh..." he breathed out in relief, "right -"

"Our babies are going to be about three months apart, Deb." Cynthia said as she came into the room with a tray. She bent over for us and Ritchie and I took our mugs of tea, still steaming - obviously freshly brewed. She then went over to John and gave him the plate of beans on toast which was still on the tray.

He took it and the cutlery - and didn't even thank his wife.

We were all stunned but didn't say anything.

She sat on the floor at John's feet like a pet. He even _stroked_ her shoulder a few times.

We all sat with our jaws wide open, but Cynthia didn't seem to notice - or if she did, she didn't mention it.

"I can help you through everything because I'll be going through it first." Cynthia talked like there was nothing wrong with the familial set up of her and John - to her, there probably wasn't - but to us - Ritch and I especially because we were married ourselves.

"Thanks, Cyn." I replied, genuinely grateful, but still shocked because of their sitting arrangements. "I can't wait."  
"Little Starkey'll be here soon." Ritch put a hand on my belly. I smiled adoringly at his hand and then at his face. He was watching me like I was his everything - but I wasn't anymore - the baby was.

"You've got about nine months to wait, mate." Paul pointed out, "plenty of time to get everything ready."

"Everything doesn't have to be ready." I told Paul, "because with Ritchie as its dad, our baby is going to have everything it needs already."  
Cynthia smiled.

"You two are such a lovely couple." She said, causing Ritchie and I to smile even more. I wondered if we'd ever stop. "Your baby really will be the luckiest."

"And it'll have the best friend ever." Cynthia caught on immediately, "baby Lennon and baby Starkey will be inseparable."  
She smiled again, "of course they will."


	35. Chapter 35

_Three Months Later_

We sat outside in the car, just looking at the house. I swallowed audibly for the third time in as many minutes.

Ritchie joined his hand with mine and gave it a quick, supportive squeeze. I looked away from the house - which was in no way imposing other than who lived inside of it - and smiled at him. My heartbeat immediately slowed to its regular pace and some colour returned to my previously pale cheeks.

"It'll be fine." Ritch promised.

"They don't even know that we got married, Ritchie," I cried, "how are they going to get their heads around that _and_ a baby? We should have told them about getting married first."  
"Should of, would of, could of." He paused, "it's a bit late for that, now, my doll."  
I looked down at my baby belly, which was quite large considering that I was only three and a half months pregnant. It was definitely noticeable, and even more so if somebody was looking at me from the side or was hugging me, which Elsie was sure to do since she had never shown any ill will towards me in the short time that Ritchie and I had lived there together.

I nodded, taking several deep breaths and remembering that being stressed was bad for my baby. "I know, I know... I just wish we'd done it all differently."

"I do, too." Ritch agreed as he killed the engine of the car.

"I wish that we didn't have to hide everything in the first place."

Ritchie nodded. "I do, too." He repeated.

"I wish there was some way to ease them into it. Instead, they'll take one look at me and just know!"  
"Maybe we should have come back sooner?"  
Neither of us had had the bravery to come back to Liverpool to see our parents before now. It had taken us days and weeks of worrying to work up the courage as it was.

I looked again at the house and then took another deep breath, closing my eyes briefly as I prepared myself.

"Right..." I said, opening my eyes and looking back at my husband, "now or never."  
"Now or never." He agreed as he got out of the car and came round to help me out, something that I had insisted he didn't need to do but something that he did anyway. "And this dress doesn't help, either." I pointed out as walked up the garden path together, "why do you insist on me wearing such tight clothes, now?"

He looked at me and smirked, "because knowing that you're carrying my child is a proper turn on."  
I blushed, staying quiet because we had reached the front door.

Ritchie knocked and then took a step back to once again stand in line with me. It opened a few seconds later. Elsie was standing there, and when she saw that it was us, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

And then her eyes drifted down to my stomach, completely visible in my very tight clothes.

"Y-you're back..." she couldn't take her eyes off of my belly. I felt very self-conscious because of it, and it took all that I had not to cover it with my hands and arms.

"Elsie," Ritchie said in a serious tone, "we need to talk."

She snapped into action, nodding and turning around, walking away. We followed her in. I kicked the door closed behind us.

She was in the living room. We walked in and sat down, me on one side of the settee for the extra support that the armrest provided for my back, and Ritchie tightly beside me. He kept our hands laced together the entire time.

We sat in silence for several seconds before I asked, "where's dad?"

"Just popped out, Debbie darling." Elsie replied with all the air of somebody who knew that their partner had gone off of the rails but would never admit it to anybody else apart from themselves, "he'll be along, soon."  
Ritchie cleared his throat, "right, well... as you can see, Elsie, Debbie's going to have a baby."  
She smiled, "congratulations, darling... will we get to meet the father?"  
Ritchie and I exchanged very awkward glances with each other before we both turned back to his mother.

"I'm the father." He looked his mother right in the eyes.

Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

"Y-you're...?" We nodded. "But you're brother and sister -"  
"We got married." I held up my wedding finger, showing off the tungsten wedding band that matched Ritchie's exactly.

"But... but that's not legal... is it?" She looked at her son for the answer.

"We got married before you and dad did." I paused, "while we were staying at John's, actually."  
"S-so when you came back here that night...?"  
"We were already married." Ritchie confirmed.

"Why didn't you tell us?"  
"Tell us what?" Dad walked into the living room. We all jumped - we hadn't even heard the front door open or close. He stood in the doorway, surprised or perhaps shocked to see Ritch and me - with my left hand still in the air, and the tungsten ring still catching the light of the mid-morning sun which filtered in through the net curtains. "Is that -" he cut himself as he stormed closer. I shrunk further into the seat, making myself as small as possible and wrapping my arms around my stomach to protect the baby... but I needn't have bothered.

Ritchie stood between dad and me. "One step closer," he said in the most frightening voice that I had ever heard him use, "and I swear to God that I will sit you on your arse so fast that you won't know what happened." Dad listened to him, for the first time ever. He stood stock still in front of Ritch. "Touch my wife - even _speak_ to her the wrong way - and I will make sure that you don't walk again for the rest of your miserable little life."

Despite being a few inches shorter than dad, Ritch was more frightening and imposing at that moment. Dad sat beside Elsie on the other settee, looking down at the floor and not saying another word.

Ritchie retook his seat beside me and I returned to my earlier position, sitting more comfortably but still keeping both of my hands on my belly, feeling as though I had to protect my precious baby despite the fact that the threat was across the room and no longer even looking at me.

Ritchie relaxed slightly, but he still sat forward in his seat, ready to jump between danger and me if necessary.

"We got married before we left for London," I said, more to Elsie than dad, who still didn't even look at me, "Brian, John and his wife Cynthia were our witnesses. We then moved to London. About a week after we got there, I stopped eating so I went to the doctor, who told me that I was pregnant." I paused, "I'm about three and a half months along, now."  
Elsie looked like she was going to cry.

"You look so much more than three and a bit months!"

"Mother!" Ritchie snapped, "you can't tell her that!"  
It had shocked me that he had referred to Elsie as his mother, which never did.

"I guess our baby's just bigger than most." We were going to be attending another baby scan next week, so we would find out if that was normal or not, then.

"Have you thought of any names yet? Do you want a girl or boy? Have you had morning sickness? When your feet swell, the trick is to bathe them in cold water -"  
"Elsie!" Ritchie barked, "stop stressing her!"  
"It's fine, Ritch." I stroked his hand using my thumb. "She's just excited."  
"Oh, I've always wanted a grandchild!"  
"Gee, thanks." Ritch muttered under his breath.

I wanted to know what dad thought about his pregnant daughter and upcoming grandchild, but he still wouldn't look at me.

I didn't have the courage to ask him.


	36. Chapter 36

_Three Months Later_

At our six month baby scan, Ritchie's leg wouldn't stop bumping up and down, and it was the most irritating thing that I had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

I groaned, feeling the stifling heat surround me as I readjusted my position on the stupid plastic chair, the underside my legs sticking to it as I moved. It was uncharacteristically warm for March.

"You okay, doll?" Ritchie asked quietly, "do you want some water? I know it's hot -"  
"What I really want is for you to stop moving your fucking leg!" I snapped, causing the nurse to glance up at us, her thin lips pursed as if she had just sucked a lesson.

Ritchie hung his head and sunk back into the chair. He put one of his hands on his legs and it stopped moving,

I immediately felt terrible.

"Ritchie..." I tried to lace my hand with his, but he just turned away from me. "Ritchie, I'm sorry -"

"You're right," he said, his back facing me, "it is annoying." He looked at me over his shoulder, "but that doesn't mean that you can shout at me for it, Deb! All you do is complain about stuff that me and George do, and we're so fucking sick of it!" 

"Ritch..." I felt my bottom lip trembling and my eyes watering. I looked up at the nurse, who was now watching us curiously. We were in a separate room because the band had hit it off and Ritchie would be harassed by fans wherever we went, but she wasn't even being secretive about watching us. "Ritchie, I'm sorry, baby -"  
He looked at me. "Deb, don't cry!" He put his arms around me, his attitude having completely changed. "Baby, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you. I know you're under a lot of pressure, and I know everything's heightened, now. I'm sorry, please forgive me -"  
I laughed at the absurdity of it.

He was asking _me_ to forgive _him_? Of course I did.

I smiled, cuddling closer to him. Ritchie put his arms around me and I snuggled my face into the crook of his neck, still crying. "Why don't we both forgive each other?"  
He chuckled, "that sounds good."  
"Mr and Mrs Starkey?" A different nurse called from the doorway. We both looked up at her. I wiped away my tears, waiting for her to continue. "The doctor's ready for you."  
We thanked her and stood up, following her to the doctor's examination room.

"Ah, Mrs Starkey." It was the same doctor who had told me that I was pregnant - he hadn't been at my last scan, but I was glad that he was here now. It was nice to see a familiar face. "Welcome back - you brought your husband this time, I see." He smiled at Ritchie, who grinned back.

"I did," I said, "Doctor Robert, this is my Richard."

"Congratulations on the bundle," Doctor Robert gestured to my swollen belly, "are you sure that you're only six months, Mrs Starkey?"  
"Debbie's fine." I got onto the examination bed and laid back before I continued, "and I could only be six months maximum - Ritchie and I didn't... _y'know_... before the night of our wedding."

"Well your baby might have a little weight problem, then," the doctor teased as he gestured for me to pull my top up, "are you sure that you're eating properly?"

"Deb's all for eating healthy," Ritchie told the doctor before I could, "she makes me and my mate eat our veggies, too - he lives with us, y'see. Good practice, really, because Geo's like having a kid, isn't he, Deb?" He looked at me.

I nodded, "I've got an unstoppable appetite now, doctor," I frowned - I had put on several pounds since the beginning of my pregnancy and it was a relatively large worry of mine that Ritchie would lose interest in me if I was fat, carrying his baby or not - however, I hadn't voiced these worries to him. "I eat a lot of fruit - apples, mostly - and a lot of broccoli."  
Ritchie wrinkled his nose. He _hated_ broccoli, but cooked it for me whenever I asked him to.

"Right, well as long as you're healthy, then there shouldn't be too much of a problem." Whilst we had been talking, Doctor Robert had been setting up the computer to scan me. He squeezed the gel onto my belly and rubbed the wand around on top of it. An image appeared on the screen. Ritchie's eyes widened and my brows furrowed.

"Is that...?" Ritchie pointed across me at the screen, "Deb, do you see that?" He looked down at me. My jaw had dropped.

There was no way.

"Twins, it appears, Mrs Starkey." The doctor looked away from the screen to smile at us both, "congratulations. It looks like you have two babies on the way."

 _Two_.

It had been hard enough to tell people that there would be one, let alone two.

"T-two...?" I stuttered, hardly able to believe that I was carrying more than one baby.

"Two!" Ritchie squealed, "baby, we're going to have two babies!"

I couldn't quash his happiness, but inside my guts were churning with nerves.

I hadn't been sure that I could parent _one_ child, now how would I cope with two?

 _You won't be on your own - you've got Ritchie_.

But the band were getting big. They were becoming more well known, and increasingly so the last few weeks, Brian was pushing for them to tour.

But Ritchie had told him that he wouldn't leave me until after the baby was born... but now that there would be two, how would I cope when he _did_ inevitably go on tour?

"I'll get you a copy of the scan." The doctor left the room, leaving Ritchie and I alone.

I wanted to admit to my husband all of my worries, but I took one look at his gorgeous face and I couldn't ruin his happiness and excitement. I had to bottle my thoughts. I had to act like I wasn't falling apart on the inside. I took a few deep breaths.

I could do this, I was sure of it.

"Two!" Ritchie continued to exclaim, the brightest smile on his face.

I smiled at him. "Two." I agreed, trying to sound as excited as possible.


	37. Chapter 37

_One Month Later_

My feet were killing me, and my dress was far too tight...

 _Goddamn you, Ritchie, for making me wear this_.

Just because _he_ found my pregnancy attractive didn't mean that I did. I had put on far too much weight, my breasts were disgustingly big and I was covered in spots that hadn't plagued me since I was a young teenager, and I hadn't even bothered with makeup that evening despite the fact that it was the launch party for the boys' first album.

 _Please Please Me_.

There was something so sexy about that title, and I wasn't sure what it was.

I watched Ritchie from across the room, who was in the middle of a photo session for a magazine. I was deep in conversation with Cynthia, though in all honesty, I wasn't listening to a word that she said.

Ritchie glanced away from the photographer momentarily and his eyes landed on me. He looked me up and down hungrily, a smirk on his face as his gaze rested on my humongous baby bump - the temporary home of our two babies, of which I had now come to terms with.

We were going to have _two_.

**Ritchie's POV**

There was no sight more gorgeous than my Debbie Doll... or I had thought so until she'd become swollen with our children. I was insatiable, now - as if I hadn't been before.

I couldn't get enough of her... there was nothing that I loved more than going down on her, sucking her clit and glancing up at her belly, her face barely visible as she tried to peek at me.

God, just _thinking_ of being between her legs was making me hard.

I turned back to the photographer, who was requesting a different pose. I chanced a glance at my gorgeous wife, who, last I had seen, had been talking to Cynthia, who was wearing what seemed to be the only nice dress that she owned - the same that she had worn on the day of our weddings.

Debbie was leaning back slightly to relieve the pressure on her spine, one hand rubbing circles on her belly and a bright smile on her face as she talked to Cyn.

I wanted to be at her side so badly. I wanted to be the one rubbing her belly. I wanted to be the one making her smile.

The lads often said that I'd lost my mind the day that I'd met Deb.

They said that I had become completely unfocused on that day, and that the old me hadn't come back since...

I liked the new me, because the new me had a gorgeous, loving wife and two little babies on the way who I already loved more than anything - wife included.

I would _die_ for my children, and they weren't even here, yet.

"Ah come on, man," John complained, "how much longer is this going to take?"  
I didn't hear the photographer's response, because the cogs in my mind were whirring. A tune was buzzing around between my ears, and words were starting to form.

_Well she was just seventeen, you know what I mean..._

* * * * *

**Debbie's POV**

When we got in that night - or rather, very early the next morning - Ritchie helped me into the bathroom, undressing me slowly and using a warm damp flannel to wash me over, paying special attention to my bulging belly. He got down on his knees to wash my belly, laying kisses on the skin there. I fought the urge to recoil, just as I did every time he paid any attention to anywhere below my breasts.

My stomach was covered in angry silver stretchmarks, which I knew weren't attractive... and the worst part was my vagina. Ritchie always loved being inside of me, calling me tight and hot and every other word that usually drove me crazy... but I knew that as soon as I had these babies, I would never be the same down there. I would be loose, saggy... and I had heard rumours of some women even _tearing_.

I wondered if Ritchie would still want me when I was no longer the gorgeous teenager that he had fallen in love with, but rather the tired and weary looking mother with a loose cunt and flabby belly.

I had voiced my concerns to Cynthia, who was a few years older than me and had a good enough relationship with her mother to talk to her about my problems, disguising them as her own... and Cyn had assured me that women didn't just 'go loose'... but I didn't know if I trusted her. _"And besides,_ " she had said softly, _"Ritchie would never stop loving you."_

"What're you humming?" I asked him softly as I came back to reality and recognised the sounds that he was making as a song, "I don't recognise it."  
"It's a song." He replied, not looking up at my face and instead pressing his cheek against my stomach. One of the babies kicked and I sucked in my breath - it had been a sharp one.

"Who's it by?"

"Me." He now looked up at me, "it's for you. I saw you across the room tonight, and I fell in love all over again."  
The second baby kicked this time.

"You did?" I still found it amazing he loved me despite all of my flaws and imperfections.

He nodded, his soft brown hair rubbing against my skin before he began to sing softly, and it was the most beautiful song that I had ever heard.

_Well, she was just seventeen_

_You know what I mean_

_And the way she looked_

_Was way beyond compare_

_So how could I dance with another_

_Ooh, when I saw her standing there?_

_Well, she looked at me_

_And I, I could see_

_That before too long_

_I'd fall in love with her_

_She wouldn't dance with another_

_Ooh, when I saw her standing there_

_Well, my heart went "boom"_

_When I crossed that room_

_And I held her hand in mine_

_Oh we danced through the night_

_And we held each other tight_

_And before too long_

_I fell in love with her_

_N_ _ow I'll never dance with another_

_Ooh, since I saw her standing there_

_Well, my heart went, "Boom"_

_When I crossed that room_

_And I held her hand in mine_

_Oh, we danced through the night_

_And we held each other tight_

_And before too long_

_I fell in love with her_

_Now I'll never dance with another_

_Oh, since I saw her standing there_

_Oh, since I saw her standing there_

_Yeah, well since I saw her standing there_

By the time he had finished, I was crying. My tears were landing on the bathroom floor and in his hair. He stood up, then, but still kept a hand on our two babies inside of me.

"Did you like it?"  
"That's the most beautiful song that I've ever heard, Ritch," I told him honestly.

"I'm hoping the lads will let me put it on the next album," he said, "though John and Paul'll probably steal it -"  
"Let them." I told him, wrapping my arms around his middle and getting as close as I could, "because what's important is that we'll know - I'll know, and you will, and we'll tell the babies when they come, too. We'll know whose song it is, and that's all that matters."  
He kissed my lips softly, "I love you, Deb. God, you're perfect, y'know that?"  
I giggled self consciously, "I don't think I am... though I do know that you love me."  
He grinned, "you _are_ perfect - you're everything that I've ever wanted. You're beautiful, you're a -"  
"Doll." I finished for him, "I know, baby, I'm your doll."  
"Always."  
"Always." I promised him, because I knew that it was true. I didn't know how long we would last - though I hoped it was forever - but I knew that if something ever caused us to part, then in some way or shape or form, I would always be his. His love. His doll.


	38. Chapter 38

When I woke up the next day, I was in bed alone. I looked at the clock on my bedside table and saw that I had slept for almost fourteen hours, and it was the evening - dinner time, to be exact. I sighed because now my sleep pattern would be ruined, and also because I needed the toilet.

I got up and went into the bathroom, returning only a few minutes later. I couldn't hear Ritchie anywhere.

Maybe he'd gone out.

I opened the door to our bedroom and heard him immediately. He was in the twins' room, which had been George's old bedroom.

I went over to it, pushing the door open gently. He was sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by two cribs, two chests of drawers, a rocking chair and more stuffed toys than any children could ever need.

"Hey," I said softly as I walked into the room and sat beside him. He turned his head, watching me.

"You get more beautiful everyday."  
I flushed, "I don't. I get fatter everyday -"  
"You're not fat, you're pregnant." I noticed the guitar in his lap but didn't mention it for the moment. "And you look beautiful. You're carrying our children in there, Deb, you could never look fat or ugly like this."  
His words made me feel slightly better, but I didn't tell him that.

Instead, I chose to mention the guitar. "I didn't know you could play," I narrowed my eyes at the instrument, giving him a clue as to what I was referring to.

"Oh," he looked down at the guitar briefly and then back into my eyes, "I can't, really. It's one of George's - he left it here - and I was just playing about, really."  
"It sounded good to me." I hadn't heard him playing it, only singing, but I wanted him to be confident and sure of himself, so I told a small white lie. "Was that my song you were singing?"  
He nodded, "I've decided to call it 'I Saw Her Standing There'." He paused, "what do you think?"  
I nodded, "I think that's perfect." He strummed a few notes on George's instrument, and I had to concentrate very hard to not crease my eyebrows in disdain.

The guitar was not his speciality.

Ritchie chuckled, "you don't have to pretend." He paused, laying the guitar on the floor beside it. "I think I'll ask Paul or George to teach me how to play."  
"Not John?" I asked him in a teasing lilt.

He shook his head, "John'll only poke fun." Ritchie opened his arms and beckoned me into them. I climbed into his lap and laid my head on his chest, feeling relaxed and at ease immediately.

"Can you sing it to me again?" I asked him, " _I Saw Her Standing There_?"

He nodded and began to hum softly, giving the introduction to the song before he launched into the lyrics.

The way that I was sitting meant that more than half of my belly was pressed up against him, and as he sang, our babies kicked for him.

By the end of the song, Ritchie was crying. He moved his hands from around me to my belly.

"They like it..." he said as they kicked under his hand, "they like my voice -"  
"Of course they do." I pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, "you're their dad. They _love_ you, Ritch. They kicked last night when you were singing, and they also do it a lot when you talk."  
"They do?"  
I had never told him that before.

I nodded, "they idolise you, Ritchie bear." 

Ritchie smiled as he continued to add some weight to my belly, their kicks becoming slightly sharper. It was painful but it was mesmerising - I loved the feeling of his hands on me and on them, too.


	39. Chapter 39

The entire drive to the hospital, I was thrumming with excitement and a hint of jealousy. John had called us hours ago to say that Cynthia was in labour, and then he had phone just twenty minutes ago to tell us that the baby had arrived - he and Cyn had a son, Julian.

"Do you think he'll be little?" I asked excitedly, "how small do you think he'll be, Ritch? Do you think they'll let me hold him? Oh, I want to just squeeze him!"  
Ritchie chuckled, placing a hand on my knee to calm me, which it immediately did. "I don't think you should be squeezing any little babies, doll." He paused, "less so when it's not your own."

"I bet Cyn's over the moon!"  
"I bet she's bloody tired and doesn't want too many people around her." Ritchie pulled up outside of the hospital, "I bet she doesn't want to be crowded."

"I won't crowd her." I said, "I just want to -"  
"Hold the baby." He grinned at me, "I know, doll." He moved his hand up to my baby bump, "but not long and we'll have our own, and then you can hold them all you want."  
I smiled at that, because there was nothing that I wanted more.

When we got to the hospital, Ritchie parked the car before he led the way to the front doors. We walked in, and almost immediately we were swarmed with the press. There were flashing cameras and reporters everywhere, all of them clamouring to speak to us and ask about the new baby - and our upcoming bundles of joy.

Ritchie put his arm out in front of me, forming a barrier. He tried to be as nice as possible to the media, because that was what Brian had ordered him and the lads, Cyn and me, to do.

"Hello everyone, thanks for coming." Ritchie said in a mock-polite tone, "John and Cynthia are thrilled to have you all here with them for the birth of their baby -"

"Is it here yet?" One reporter asked, snatching a few photos of Ritch and me together.

"Came just under an hour ago." Ritch told them. They all scribbled down the information, "we're all very excited to hold the new baby." He was being very careful about not telling the media the name or gender of the baby.  
"Are the other lads coming, Ringo?" A second reporter asked.

"I don't know." He replied honestly.

"Debbie, when is yours and Ringo's baby due?"  
"Well actually," I said, leaning a little on Ritchie as my feet and legs began to ache from standing for more than a few minutes, "we're expecting twins."

The reporters all let out an excited gasp, scribbling the news down once more.

"You'll all be back here in a few weeks. John and Cynthia's baby and ours are going to be about about three months apart, but since Cyn's carried a bit late, we're hoping they'll be a bit closer in age."  
"We just can't wait to hold our babies." I said in an overly saccharine tone of voice, smiling at my husband and then at the photographers and reporters, the photographers snapping shots of me clutching onto Ritchie's arm, the two of us smiling at each other.

We excused ourselves from anymore questions and went up to Cynthia's private room on the maternity ward.

I looked around as we did, realising that in just a month or so, I would be the one in the bed with a newborn; but I'd have two. I couldn't wait, but I felt extremely nervous for my impending stay in the hospital - I hated them because of how long I had spent in them when my mother had died.

But she hadn't come out.

I would, though. There was no way that I would leave my two babies, and there was no way that I would leave my Ritchie. I loved the three of them too much.

"Here we are, then." He opened the door to the private room for me. I went in and saw Cynthia sitting in bed with a little bundle of blue blankets in her arms. She looked up and beamed.

"You're here!" She beckoned me over. I followed, looking around for a chair to sit in. Ritchie noticed my movements and anticipated what I would want, sliding a plastic chair underneath me. I thanked him with a small smile, and he excused himself from the room to give Cyn, the baby and me some time alone.

"How did it go, then?" I asked, looking at the baby, who was asleep. "Did it hurt?"  
She shook her head, "I had an epidural - I didn't feel a thing." I breathed a sigh of relief now that knew that that was an option. "This is Julian, by the way." She tilted the sleeping baby my way so I could see him.

I cooed, instantly feeling my heart well up with love and adoration for the tiny little thing in his mother's arms.

"Isn't he just perfect?" I nodded because I agreed entirely. He was perfect. "John Charles Julian Lennon..." she was just gazing at her son, as if she couldn't believe that she was finally holding him.

I wondered if I would feel the same when my babies finally arrived.

"He's gorgeous, Cynthia. You and John are so lucky. Wow, I'm..." _I'm jealous. Please let me and Ritchie have our babies come soon_. "I'm so happy for you." I finished.

She smiled, "I'm hoping that he will bring the two of us closer together." She paused, "John and me, I mean. Do you know that he hasn't even held Julian yet?"

I sighed. John was a terrible husband and was likely to be an even worse father, but I didn't want to tell her that. Instead, I smiled at Cynthia.

"I'm sure he's saving it all up for when you're all home together." Her eyes shined brightly and I knew that she had bought my lie.

I sighed, wishing that I didn't have to lie to my best friend to protect her husband, who was also my best friend. It was all so confusing. I looked at Julian in her arms and envied him for the simplicity that his life consisted of in that moment.


End file.
